


The 2019 June Collection

by Penstrokes



Series: Vi's Super Science June series [3]
Category: Super Science Friends
Genre: 2099 compliant, Facility AU, Gen, Multi, Roleswap AU, Subnautica AU, Super Science June 2019, Trippy dreamy guilt trip, also combined with an HC, anime episode compliant, fusion au, in Chapter 8 Ford Westinghouse and Edison are only mentioned, it's a lot of sad this time around, my 20th ssf fic, some mention of depression, supernatural hunter au, watsons a robot but what else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-04-06 01:43:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 40,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19052719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penstrokes/pseuds/Penstrokes
Summary: The 2019 collection for SSJ 2019 promptsSome prompts have mirrored chapters, others are parallels. A few have mini arcs.A considerable amount of AUs.





	1. Touch Down

**Author's Note:**

> Quote: And I think it's gonna be a long long time  
> 'Till touch down brings me round again to find  
> I'm not the man they think I am at home  
> Oh no no no I'm a rocket man  
> Rocket man burning out his fuse up here alone  
> -Rocket Man, Elton John
> 
> Summary: The three of them have been in space for a long time, they’ve forgotten how Earth used to be/what Earth is like.

Sergei had always liked stars, now that he was in space, he could see forever. A vast infinity of blackness and little white dots in the ever present, never ending distance. All through the ‘comfort’ of his little window. It was really the only comfort he was afforded, that and enough air, water and food to last until...who knew when.

 

Was there actually a  _ when?  _ The space program hadn’t exactly been confident or overly concerned with their safety. It was something they could say now, far away from Earth and their superiors. They’d have enough time to think in this near isolation and recognize truths they’d been blind to before. They held onto some of these lies from home because they were  _ from  _ home. 

 

“Of course there’s a when. There’s always a when, there’s always a solution to the problem. Do you think the government would be so careless as to send off their precious astronauts without a backup plan? Without a good chance of our survival?” Nikita chided them, arms folded. His face was more gaunt, eyes more hollow than before. 

 

“The government is in a race with the Americans. They’d try anything if it held a chance of getting ahead.” Anatoly pushed back.  He wasn’t looking much better than Nikita did. None of them were quite themselves after several months. 

 

Had it been months? Or years?

 

There were only so many conversations to go through, so many ways to rephrase and discuss the same few talking points and ideas any of them had. There wasn’t anything that one of them had experienced or thought of that the other two hadn’t at one point or another. Perhaps it was the lack of privacy-not that it was ever in the equation to begin with. Or maybe it was the unwilling and unwitting transformation they’d gone through together. Their own brand of hell from their time in space. 

 

The only bright spot in their journey was that they’d seen Mars, it was a wary sign that their journey was half finished.

 

It was supposed to be half finished.

 

It didn’t feel like it but eternity was never ‘half finished’ or even any sort of ‘finished’. It just went on and on forever. 

 

“Do you think anyone will remember us when we get back?” Sergei asked, turning away from his window.

 

“As we are now? No. As we used to be? Maybe.” Anatoly answered simply. Either he hadn’t thought of it very much or he’d thought through it so often it was the only answer he could find.

 

“I can’t remember what the color blue looks like anymore. What grass smells like, what the sun feels-” A dam was starting to crack in Sergei. He loved the stars, the heavens and everything in it, but that included Earth. All the clean comforts of home, the messy aspects of the great outdoors. Other people, people he’d known all his life from before. People he’d never met. Sergei wanted all of it. He wanted his old self back, his hair, his eyes, his  _ skin.  _

 

“-What do you mean you don’t know what the sun feels like?” Nikita snapped. “You’re sitting by the window, you of all people would know. If anything,  _ I  _ should be the one complaining about not knowing what the sun feels like. I haven’t seen a damn thing except for you two, the inside of this ship and a smidgen of the stars from behind your heads.” 

 

“Fine, I don’t remember what it feels like to have skin. I don’t even know if we have organs anymore. I’m not sure I want to know if we do or not. I’m afraid of taking off this suit now.” Sergei pressed back in annoyance.

 

“What if we can’t take it off?” Anatoly asked quietly, drawing the attention of the other two.

 

“What if we’ll die if we take this off? Will we even be able to survive on Earth anymore?” 

 

The space capsule grew quiet, with only the white noise of the ship’s machines and computers to accompany them. 

 

“We’re as good as dead as we are, aren’t we?” Nikita pointed out, after a long silence.

 

“There  _ is  _ no going back for us, no going back to normal because this  _ is  _ our new normal now. Don’t you understand? Our families will never accept us,  _ society  _ will never accept us.” He stressed after a stunned silence.

 

Sergei didn’t want to believe it, he didn’t want to give up his daydream of what should have been normal. He wanted to be the old Sergei again, the one who loved his old bed, his parents and his siblings. The one who had a crush on the girl across the street who worked in an office. The boy who read books by the light of the full moon instead of sleeping, regretting it the next day but not enough to not do it again.

 

He wanted to be the boy who’d only loved the stars from afar, instead of being bathed in the radioactive breath that they spewed.

 

“There’s the moon.” Anatoly informed them, seeing it through the space between Sergei’s head and the edge of the window.

 

Sergei turned to see it, a conflicted pang rang through him. The things he wanted would be so  _ close,  _ he could touch it and Nikita’s words were true. There was no going back for them. Ever.

 

This mission may as well have been indefinite.

 

Their journey was nearing it’s end and yet it stretched on forever. 

 

They could see that pale blue dot that should have been home.

 

Closer.

 

They could make out continents, the oceans- all of it so full of  _ life. _

 

Closer. 

 

They were entering the atmosphere, the spaceship was facing it’s final test. Heat and pressure from that gentle airy cover that kept them all alive rocked the ship, deadly amounts of heat from the friction as they fought their way past it onto the land masses below.

 

Touch down.

 

Sergei’s feet made contact with the soft, bumpy surface once again. The gravity was almost too much for his limbs, his knees buckled and he fell on all fours. Fingers curled in the grass, pulling up blades. He looked at them as if it were the first time he were seeing them. For a moment, Sergei could believe he was whole again, that good old Sergei was back. 

 

Slowly, he pushed himself up and took unsteady steps into the apple orchid. They had a mission but for a few blissful moments he could forget about missions and governments. Stars and creaky spaceships. Months of limited pallets of pitch black space and red spaceships made the colorfulness of Earth almost blindingly disorienting. There was so much more to see and take in. 

 

He felt a hand on his shoulder. 

 

It was Anatoly. If he could smile, Sergei bet that’s what he’d be doing. 

 

“Welcome home, Sergei. Is it like how you remembered?”


	2. Wander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘And then she left, and then I was alone.’ - Come from Away, something’s missing.
> 
> Phillip wants to go back to the way things were, but you can’t go back to your past.

Philipp was cold, hungry and a little more dirty than he’d been the night before. He rose from his cardboard bed, soreness attesting to the quality of sleep he’d had, shivering half the night. He hadn’t gotten much sleep but he got what he could. The one silver lining had been that it hadn’t rained. Philipp had no roof to protect him otherwise. He ambled out of the alley into the open street. The mid morning air was less chilled than it’d been that night. In the light of day, he could, with dismay, see the state of his clothes.

 

There were holes in his pants, spots in his clothes where the cloth had started to grow thin. Some more obvious than others, carrying small tears and frayed ends. If these were any indication, then he knew his general appearance had to be suffering as well. Philipp felt dirty and grimy. He did his best to wash himself but his options were limited. 

 

The crowds meandered past him as if he were invisible. Mostly invisible. What little money Philipp had on him when he left-half kicked out of his house by his disgruntled father, was spent quickly by the end of the first day. He’d survived begging and digging through trash for anything remotely edible. It was often a kind hearted stranger who’d give him something small, like a simple sandwich or a piece of fruit or candy. 

 

He was forever grateful for the assistance they gave him, but they could not give him what he truly needed.

 

A home.

 

A family.

 

How much longer would he go on like this? Why hadn’t he found some place better than the streets? Was he truly that unwanted and unloved?

 

A hunger pang pushed him forward, as if Philipp needed the extra encouragement. 

 

Maybe he did. 

 

It was still early enough that the streets weren’t crowded enough, although they were not empty. He could catch he sight of other people glancing at him, whispering quietly to one another. He wanted to hide from their stares and their words. He was becoming a topic of conversation, the most he could do was hope that it was at least enough for someone to take true pity on him. 

 

Yet he could not afford to even  _ want  _ to not to be stared at. As he was now, his entire survival relied on him being seen. He tried to soak in the warmth from the still weak sun. 

 

He’d had to resort to  _ stealing,  _ some stale but otherwise edible bread had been left out in the open. The sign said they’d been discounted….it was the knowledge that it was likely to be thrown out anyway that helped assuage his guilt. Philipp was a good boy, he didn’t do bad things. Not a lot anyway, he’d always apologized for them and the ones he didn’t had been small, white lies and actions. 

 

As he glanced nervously, eating his bread, he took a stroll through the park. The small patch of maintained nature was a blessing. A sight for sore eyes, even if he did live on the streets for ...Philipp couldn’t even keep track of how long it’d been. He plopped himself on the bench, he needed to save his steadily dwindling energy to just get through the day. Despite this plan of his, he couldn’t help but swing his feet as they barely touched the ground. Some small amount of frivolous joy.

 

An old woman on another bench fed the birds while a man walked his dog past both of them. It was the sound of voices just behind him that caught his attention. The sound of a man and a woman, of gentle talks, of  _ laughing.  _ The laughter of children, of a  _ family. _

 

Despite himself, he twisted himself around to try and get a glimpse of them. Perhaps out of habit when he’d still had a family, wondering if he could play with them. 

 

No,  _ he  _ couldn’t play with them. No one would  _ want  _ to play with him. Maybe they would have wanted to play with the old Philipp, but the new Philipp was someone  _ nobody  _ wanted. 

 

The woman’s hair fell down around her neck, much like his mother’s had been when he’d seen it down. It cascaded down her face like a waterfall made of chocolate. That laugh sounded like the ringing of bells, her smile was serene. The man was cleanly shaven, holding her hand as they walked. Their children trotted out ahead of them, wearing nice, clean and freshly pressed outfits.

 

It looked nice.

 

It looked like what he used to have.

 

He turned back around, trying to fight the tears as memories came rushing back. 

 

His first day of school- Philipp had been so worried yet curious. How his mother had reassured him that it would be alright and there would be many new friends for him to play with.

 

Learning he’d be a big brother- how shocked he’d been. How his parents assured him that ‘he’d find out where babies would come from’ when he was older. His eyes wide with concern and wonder as he held his hand out to touch her belly.

 

His father teaching him how to ride a bike. He’d been awfully unsteady his first few tries. How his father had helped him back up after he’d fallen, telling him how brave he was. How he just needed to try harder.

 

Philipp couldn’t stay here, he had to go. He had to go..anywhere. Yet, he had nowhere  _ to  _ go to. He was aimless both emotionally and physically. 

 

So he ran, it didn’t matter where, did it?

 

With eyes full of hot tears, he went as fast as  his little legs would take him. 

 

Until he found something.

 

Or rather, someone.

 


	3. Content

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You cannot just believe part-way, you have to believe in it all  
> My problem was doubting the Lord's will, instead of standing tall  
> …. - Elder Price from The Book of Mormon Musical - I believe.- 
> 
> It is like the pounding of the rain and the motions of the sun and moon. The Church has always been a part of The Pope. He doesn’t know a life without it.

There were numerous constants in the world. From the rising of the sun from the east to the west to the coming and going of the rain. These were the things that kept humans grounded in the world. A knowledge that this was ‘normal’, parts of life that were steady and stable. That in the rush and unknowing of what life had in store, they would always be there during the best and worst of times.  For The Pope, the most grounding constant was religion. 

 

From his earliest memories, of a youth spent in an orphanage with tall wooden walls. The smell of warm dust and the all the bodies that resided in it still stuck out in his mind if he got close to another person or even the scents of burning candles and incense. Their waking moments were divided between chores and studying under the watchful eyes of the nuns and priests who looked after them. These caretakers, these men and women of the cloth knew what was good for them, had loved them the only way the children ever knew how. 

 

They taught them the essentials- reading. Writing. Math. Religion. 

 

Reading to understand The Lord. Writing to help spread the good word. Math because it was a necessity, they were never truly taught outside of the bare basics. A child of God had no need to play with numbers, no right to be dallying around trying to pretend they knew the inner workings of what lay above. What was told to them was right and just. It was all they needed and so it was all they were given.

 

The Church was their home, their world. As they grew up, they were allowed to leave, but why would they want to? To those that did, the future pope wondered why they’d left and where they’d gone to. What lives they held outside of the Church was a mystery to him but not one he’d dwelled on too long. There was scripture to study and so he moved on himself. 

 

As he worked his way up through the church, he learned more about the world through the worries and hushed guilt of those who entered. The ones looking for solace, for advice and hope. The ones who had sins to confess. They whispered the mild blemishes on their souls to their deep dark secrets as they begged for forgiveness, for anything to set them on the holy path once more. The Pope had consoled them, reassured them. He did what he could to give hope to the masses as they’d been expecting of him.

 

The Pope thought he understood, that he’d seen all of life’s problems, that he’d proven himself to be more than capable of being the spiritual leader the world needed. 

 

It’s what he’d spent his entire life doing, an aspect of himself and of the world he’d grown up in that’s as familiar as breathing to him. 

 

It’s why he feels threatened, angry and confused by the growing prowess of science. How the influence of men and women who claimed to understand better how the world worked, how everything came to be. A mirror to the explanations and scripture that he’d dedicated himself to, had, on some level, become one with. 

 

It was a world that continued on without The Church. A world where he and everything he was didn’t matter as much.

 

It was in those rare moments when his mind began to wander along those thoughts that they almost fell into those crevices of ‘what if’. 

 

Of course, The Pope always pulled himself away before it got too deep. He was The Pope, after all, he knew what his responsibilities were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a comment or a Kudos.


	4. Motherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re always going to wonder if you’re doing things wrong, but that’s what it means to be a mom, to care so much about someone else that you just want to be as perfect as possible.” —Naya Rivera
> 
> Mata Hari could be many things for her audience. The one thing she wanted to truly be was a mother.

Mata Hari had a vastly different life before she became a dancer. She’d been Margaretha Geertruida Zelle before she became Mata Hari.

 

She’d been a daughter.

 

A sister.

 

A girl from a plush background thanks to a wealthy father and a loving family. There’d been no need to worry about her future outside of what the next day might bring or perhaps the next week or month. More preoccupied with those expensive, private schools and what messes her brothers were getting up to, she’d been blind sighted by her father’s bankruptcy and her mother’s death.

 

The future Mata Hari- Margaretha- had been aimless, trying to find some footing in these wildly changing times. The moment she’d managed to find some semblance of solid ground, it was taken from her, sending her tumbling once more through life. Margaretha had always liked children, going so far as to study to be a kindergarten teacher...until she was just too pretty to ignore.

 

A shared glance.

 

A smile.

 

A kiss.

 

A dream that ended too soon.

 

Again, she was sent flying, this time landing in a country half way across the sea, far from Europe and married now. What she’d thought would be a way to finally settle down became her own personal hell. A man who cared not for her as a person, but for his booze and using her body. He used her for children, used her to vent his frustrations on. It was here that she sought refuge from the hellish matrimony she’d become tied down in. It was the local culture, the dancing and the songs that gave Margaretha something to hang on to in the storm that was her private life. She had her children, yes, but she needed something stronger still. Something to make her into someone else.

It was here she became Mata Hari, someone valued and adored. For a brief while she became free only to be tricked by false promises only to leave once again.

 

All she had to her name was her surviving child and her performances. Mata mourned for the sun she never got to see grow up. She grieved for the impoverished present that only awaited her daughter.  They had both deserved so much better and yet here she was. With only her body and her tricks, she had to fight to survive. It was a hard existence but it was _her_ existence.

 

This too had to come to an end as her ex husband took her away as well.

 

‘It would be better for her there.’

 

‘He could provide for Louise Jeanne. Better than I ever could.’

 

Reluctantly, she stepped back and watched her daughter fade from her life. Even if she wanted to fight, she couldn’t. Mata could only have faith that he’d be a better father than he ever could a husband.

 

All Mata had was to live for herself the best she could, throwing herself into her performances, tossing her anxieties and fears, self doubts into the wind, burned them in dance. If someone paid her well, she’d do what was asked of her. Mata was everything Margaretha had longed to be and so she embraced her.

 

She’d made a name for herself, she was finally going somewhere.

 

Until Tapputi showed up.

 

Tapputi was a strange woman, the antithesis of Mata. Where Mata was young, Tapputi was old. Where Mata was faked- to a degree, Tapputi was entirely genuine. She’d centuries to build her skills of how to play hearts and draw to her those she desired. Despite her age...or because of it, she stole the spotlight whenever she was around.

 

Tapputi was the reason she was here now, in 1941. Mata sought her out, to issue a challenge, to right a wrong. That woman had trailed her thoughts with how effortless she did what she wanted and got what she wanted. Mata had climbed her way up to where she was now, she would not be outdone by Tapputi.

 

She had lost her parents. Her childhood, her _children_ -she would not lose this last piece of what she could claim to be hers. Mata pushed those thoughts away from her mind, she didn’t need that anguish today. She had a mission that no one would push from her.

 

It was the feel of a small body bumping into hers, the weak whimper from below that forced Mata to grind to a screeching halt. The poor boy was dirty, wiping his tears on a sleeve that had seen better days.

 

She shouldn’t get distracted, she came for a reason and she would fulfil it..but would she really abandon a helpless child?  Those instincts that never got a chance to shine came poking through like sunshine through parted clouds. The want to be a mother, the want to care for someone much younger, much more vulnerable for herself triumphed over her desire for revenge. Mata kneeled before the child, not caring if her knees got a little dirty. Gently she took his hands, pulling them away to reveal a miserable, terrified face.

 

He was older than her Norman had been, blonde instead of dark hair. They weren’t related in the slightest yet she saw something of herself in him. Someone who needed someone stable in their lives, who needed a platform to build themselves up from.

 

“Would you like some help?” She asked gently. She spoke not as Mata Hari the dancer, but as Margaretha the woman she used to be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've enjoyed this chapter please consider leaving a kudos or a comment, feedback is always appreciated.


	5. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your scientists were so preoccupied with if they could that they didn’t stop to think if they should. -Ian Malcom, Jurassic Park. 
> 
> When the fruits of your labor are laid out before you, only then can you see what it’s worth. It is beautiful, it is terrible, it’s a moment that will haunt Oppenheimer for the rest of his life.

 

The Manhattan Project was a mad dash, a race against time to create the unparalleled weapon. Hundreds, if not thousands of personale of both military and scientific background pulling together for this highly constricted endeavor. Every moment, every action was held to scrutiny and tight observation. It was this top secret hush hush operation that Oppenheimer found himself director of. So many minds and eyes, specifically chosen members from around the world  watched him.

 

Waiting.

 

Judging.

 

His every decision, his every word was being scrutinized. It was him who had to lead, his mind guiding theirs. Long, secluded sessions spent in close quarters crunching numbers and the law of physics in a desperate bid to find a way to make the chemistry and the physics reach their goals. Months turned into years, seemingly speeding by impossibly fast yet lasting life times simultaneously. For all their preparations, time was becoming an increasingly stressed point in their work and eventually push would have to come to shove.

 

They would have to have something to show for it, to demonstrate that everything they’d done up until that point had a purpose. It was for that reason that these men found themselves sitting under the cover of darkness of the early morning hours. Anxiety and uncertainty filled the air, nearly as audible and palpable as those who came to witness what was either the birth of an era or a dead end. One could almost hear them silently counting down to the moment of truth.

 

The brightest flash they’d ever seen, gracing them with what would become an iconic cloud  granted their answer. The bomb answered their screams and cheers with a booming bellow seconds afterwards. The hardest part of their battle was over, none of their efforts were for naught. A great weight was lifted from their shoulders. Not all of it, they still held a duty. It was enough for them.

 

A quote wafted up through Oppenheimer’s mind, one that began to crystallize a realization that this was just the beginning. The secret was out, pried from the tightly compressed jaws of the universe. Something that could never go back to whence it came. The devastating power of the split atom was upon them all either for better or worse.

 

This was just the beginning, echoed the thought in his head.

 

'It had been done once, it would done again and again. Bigger, more powerful bombs and I will have had a hand in it all. The ultimate weapon of destruction. A domino effect that would be an inevitable arms race. Humanities most devastatingly beautiful creations would be it’s downfall.' He contemplated with a sorrow that tainted the relief he felt. 

 

“I have become death, destroyer of worlds.” He uttered softly, as if another was speaking through him. It was the only answer to the question that lay in his mind, now void of any other thoughts.

 

‘What have you done?’

 

The world fell silent and still, his fellow scientists frozen in time. Some in mid cheer while others quietly had their eyes closed as if to pray. Looking back to where the front of the shelter should have been...Oppenheimer saw _him_ for the first time. There he stood in his radiance, his ever powerful and immortal self. A knowledge of the inevitable fate that awaited all of existence.

 

Shiva.

 

Arms folded he kneeled, to pluck Oppenheimer from the ground as if he were a mere grape. Shiva studied Robert with narrowed eyes, who now sat in the palm of his hand. He didn’t hope, didn’t even entertain the thought of escaping. If Shiva wanted him dead, well, he’d have died.

 

“Human, you have called out to me from your mortal realm. Summoned me with your creation of death. Why do you seek me?” Shiva demanded with all the guarded emotion a deity should have.

 

He dared not waste this chance to plead his case. Not only a case for his own survival but for the end of the war. An end to killing...through more killing.

 

“Oh mighty Shiva, we at the Manhattan Project sought out a weapon. A bomb unlike any other which we made with our own hands, whose very innerworkings we discovered through our studies.” His voice trembled but he held it as strong as he could.

 

“You humans sought out destruction that no human had ever wielded before. You play with the deaths of an untold many for curiosity’s sake. Your hubris shall be your end.” Shiva snarled, tensing up.

“We did not do it out of  hubris, we did out of desperation. A hope that this would end a terrible war. Surely, you have noticed all the lives being lost?” Oppenheimer pressed, making his case. Even if he couldn’t get Shiva to forgive what they’d done, perhaps he could persuade him to aid them in ending the war. Even if Oppenheimer died, if he could get Shiva to help, his death will not have been in vain.

 

“Seeking an end to death through more death. An ocean of blood to drown out an ocean of blood. Entropy on a scale meant solely for the Gods and yet you mortals play with death with senseless folly.” Shiva admonished, unimpressed.

 

“What else can we do? You can’t bring peace to war without more war. Our work isn’t born of malice or a notion of life being frivolous. Either we stop them or they’ll kill us. If mass death if only meant for the Gods, will you consider helping us?” Oppenheimer gazed up at Shiva. He’d done all he could, it was all up to Shiva.

 

It would have always been up to him.

 

Silence.

 

The thing that moved was his own heartbeat, such a tiny, fragile thing in a similarly fragile body.

 

“You have summoned me, human. It is you who have understood what future your cursed creation shall bring.

 

I will do unto you a single favor.” Shiva announced after some thought.

 

“ I shall aid you in your war...only if you promise to ensure your creation stays silent forever.” Shiva made his ultimatum, awaiting Oppenheimer’s reaction.

 

“Yes, I promise. I’ll do all I can to ensure it.” Oppenheimer vowed earnestly. It seemed that the two of them were on the same page.

 

Shiva seemed satisfied.

 

“I shall become bound to you and to you, me. I shall become your might, you shall become my vessel.” Shiva’s words were followed by a sharpness in Oppenheimer’s chest, a pounding in his head. Squeezing his eyes shut and doubling over, the sound of his collaborators came rushing back.

 

No time had passed at all. No one had noticed a thing.

 

Oppenheimer had just gotten powers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider leaving a comment or a kudos. Feedback is always welcome.


	6. Nonstop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> why do you write like you're running out of time? Why do you write like tomorrow won’t arrive?
> 
> Thomas Edison had been a powerhouse in his heyday, now he’s just chasing his past.

Thomas Edison always knew in his heart that his future lay in science and inventions. From his youngest days, fascination with how things worked to his more adventurous youth with learning how to make things work better. There had never been a doubt in his mind of where he belonged in the world. From his initial floundering to his eventual success he climbed that ladder to the top with a drive for profit over personal endeavor. That thrill of seeing his hard work rewarded ignited that drive that had always been there. 

 

Money was the ultimate indicator, a sign that what he was doing was not only right but wanted. This drive, this validation was an itch he couldn’t scratch enough, a high he had to keep chasing. He needed to be working on new inventions and gaining more patents as a man needed air...or an addict needed his fix. Hours went by with him barely noticing, the only indicators that time had passed at all were his needs to stay alive and the rising and setting of the sun. Even these he barely acknowledged. The years passed before he could even acknowledge them fully, long stretches of work punctuated only by events that drew him away from his work.

 

The birth of his children.

 

The death of his first wife.

 

Meeting Henry for the first time.

 

He’d piles upon piles of patents to his name...with the help of his employees of course. He wasn’t going to pretend he knew the names and faces of most of them but they were his, just like the ideas he had them hammer out for him that he himself could not create. Either due to time or...not having the skill to carry it out. 

 

It was only when the times began to change did he notice how long it’d been. Alternating Current was challenging his place in the world of electricity both directly and indirectly. A threat to him, a threat to this technological empire that was married to his name and image.  All was fair in love and war and this was most certainly a war. 

Battles were fought with smear campaigns, urging the public not to stray from his tested and tried Direct Current. Advertising and marketing, skills Edison had learned how to master, were taken to the extreme. It was a war of the currents but to the men in the fields of business and science, this was a wholly different war.

 

It was a war of ideas and of shape the future would take. 

 

Tesla was an incredibly smart if not misguided man. Westinghouse was like a mirror image of himself that Edison did not like in any shape or form. He’d little issue with Tesla being Tesla, his real competition lay with Westinghouse. Tesla would be collateral damage, but if it meant saving one of the major industries he’d poured the past few decades of his life into, he’d just have to take him down, wouldn’t he?

 

…..

 

Edison didn’t like thinking about the war of the currents and all the things that followed. In fact, Edison tried not to think too much now a days, opting to sleep more. It’d been an aspect of life he’d long neglected. The more time he spent sleeping the less time he could think, the less time to devote himself to his work.

 

Distraction was all he really wanted now. The world was changing and slowly, it was growing into a world that didn’t need a Thomas Edison. It was a world that had been shaped by his hands once and now he’d seen the fruits of his labor already sprouting and growing far past him. 

 

He had a reputation to uphold. Whether for himself or for the world, Edison did not know. No longer did he make waves, instead he merely treaded water to stay afloat. Revising old ideas, reinventing what was already inventing like a ghost of an action that once had meaning. Edison was simply biding his time, for a new idea that could spark that old life back into him or perhaps simply waiting for his time to be up. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this chapter please consider leaving a comment or a kudos


	7. Ties that bind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deep down, there are pieces of us we refuse to acknowledge. Some never do, and those few unfortunately never reach their full potential. But, the people who do? Those people become some of the best you've ever met  
> -Theonehater 
> 
> The Berts represented Jung as a whole, for better or for worse.

Carl Jung was used to being alone, preferred it, in fact. He felt most at ease with the silence. It allowed him to focus on his thoughts and his books, more than content to while away the days getting back to the simpler ways of life. A life without fancy technology and distractions that the modern world brought with it. Despite his lonesome endeavors, Jung did not hate people. On the contrary, Jung loved to study their minds. He longed to understand what went on in their heads, what caused their neurosises and how best to cure them. There was a joy being around people but it was one that came at a cost, the inevitable burn out. 

 

It was a type of joy that Jung had to learn how to appreciate. From a young age, Jung had found comfort in his own mind. The stories his imagination could tell him always seemed so much more fascinating than being around other children who couldn’t understand the grand scheme his mind had planned out. All they’d done was interfere, stepping clumsily into his fanciful thoughts. Jung would sometimes chalk it up to reaching too far into Introberts’ way of thinking as a child. An observation he would often keep to himself. While Jung had been the one to coin the terms that would become the Berts’ names, there was a vulnerability that he was unwilling to admit if he said that there were parts of himself than ran much deeper in both directions.

 

Introbert understood what it meant to enjoy solitude. Beauty found in the company of thought rather than people. He also understood the comfortable lull it could provide, how addictive it could become. Free from the needs and wants of others, your own being the sole focus. A stubborn reluctance to rejoin the noisy, nosy and busy human society that lay outside his own privacy. Jung so saw much of himself in Introbert that it both comforted him and scared him. A mirror showing Jung parts of himself he embraced and recoiled from. 

 

If Introbert was the part of himself Jung was most intuitively familiar with, Extroberta was their polar opposite. She thrived off of what Introbert felt exhausting. People, she thought, were exciting. Their hidden history, to their place in the world. Everyone held a sense of newness around them that never faded away. As much as Jung enjoyed the satisfying calm of the self, he was equally invested in the inner workings of other people. Why they became who they were and how to help them be better. It was in his chosen profession after all. Although Extroberta preferred to be far more active around others, Jung indulged her to an extent. Jung listened to their stories, to their worries with care. Intent and focused as his mind tried to untangle the cases before him. He could feel Extroberta’s mind working away alongside his own in silence. She could spot details he himself would have missed otherwise. The little cues people gave off subconsciously. The way they sat, the little ticks and quirks they did or didn’t do. Their voices, where they looked and how. 

 

Together, they were one part detective and one part doctor. A surprising duo that felt as natural as any other. 

 

He did it because he loved it as much as she did- she was a part of him as much as Introbert was. Two diametrically opposed states of living, two different views of the world before them. Two halves of a whole who ultimately made  _ him  _ who he was, who made everyone who they were. A vast range of personality yet just a fragment of the complexity behind what made a person. 

 

They were as much a part of him as he was of them. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill- if you liked what you read, please consider leaving feedback. Every comment and kudos is appreciated.


	8. Familiarity in a rich man's world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Money Money money, must be funny  
>  In a rich man’s world - Money money money, ABBA 
> 
> The men of the snake pit were sought out for their judgement but mainly their wealth.   
> J P Morgan wasn’t the brightest star, but he held the most power.

The Snakepit was where dreams either lived or died by investors hands. Each judge was sought after for their insight through hard earned lessons and potentially a chance to rocket themselves up through to success much like they had done. Most importantly, they were vying for their money. The most important resource of all, one that these four held in spades. The candidates stood before them, doing their best to persuade the men to take the risk. J.P. Morgan watched how their eyes darted between them, how certain judges were talked to more than others. It was only under held pretenses that everyone in the room pretended that the pitches were made to all of them. Double-speak, the kind that flourished in business negotiations and politics. 

 

It was one that J.P. Morgan knew well. They all did.

 

Edison was as bright a star as his electricity. He held fortune and fame and a background that made himself very appealing. The idea that the common man could become one of the rich and famous if they just worked enough. His story wasn’t unique and he was far from the first to go through that journey of becoming someone more successful. From what Morgan knew, Westinghouse and Ford had done much the same. Edison just had the star power behind his name. It wasn’t unusual that a large number of the potential candidates did their best to appeal to  _ him  _ specifically. Adopting that public persona, he put on that smile for the masses, that voice he used when he was trying to present something the way he wanted them to see it. It was all a perfected mask for him to scrutinize what was brought before him. 

 

Westinghouse was much the same, albeit he was more open than Edison. In both mind, method and intention although the end goal was largely the same. Westinghouse tended to make it more clear how his operations ran, more upfront. Morgan supposed he could give credit to him where it was due- Westinghouse tended to buy his patents outright while giving their inventors credit still. Edison liked to dance around the true nature of it all.

 

While those two shared the bulk of the attention,  J.P Morgan watched how his co hosts behaved. What he lacked in fame, he held a true advantage above them all.

 

He was the true golden goose. 

 

Edison and Westinghouse may have been the center of attention amongst the four, but Morgan knew better. He knew just how much reported wealth was window dressing. The two were in the business of profiting off of inventions, but Morgan was in the business of making money.

 

They were more alike than they’d ever admit, a slightly distorted mirror image of one another. 

  
  


He’d held Edison on a financial leash more than once, when his innovative hunch lead his fortunes down. He knew Edison’s financial strengths and weaknesses both professional and personal. For Edison, these were largely one and the same. 

 

Westinghouse made calculated chances with outright patent purchases, wanting to give credit and money where it was due. This was respectable although it also resulted in Westinghouse having to eat the costs, more so than Edison at points. This proved to be particularly nasty when his gut feelings lead him astray, much like Edison. 

 

They’d both come to him for money, strictly on a professional level speaking that same double talk that was their second language. Edison asking for investments- a dignified way of begging for his livelihood. Westinghouse coming to ask for partnership on a project- he didn’t have the funds to continue and J.P. Morgan was the sole method of it surviving. 

 

Morgan didn’t pay much mind to Ford, the youngest and newest member of this special club of theirs. Ford, for all he cared, was another starry eyed yes man who sucked up to Edison. He’d managed to make his own success but had things gone only a little differently, Ford would have been just another contestant before them. 

 

For all their wealth and glamor, the others weren’t that different from those who stood before them. J.P. Morgan was the one who held all the true power. He was different than them, he knew he was better. 

 


	9. The Laws of Robotics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robots Appeared. Humanity disappeared. Until none was left. - Sakeenah
> 
> From the fabric of reality to those who lived in it, rules dictated everything. This extended to robots as well.
> 
> -Parallel chapter with Chapter 22-

All things followed some sort of rule, in the very least. Often, it was many rules, getting more complicated the farther out one expanded their scope. From the vast, seemingly nothingness of space to the tiniest particle creating that very space, all obeyed with harmony. A cohesive whole, a consecutive cascade of cause and effect. Rules upon rules intermeshing like cogs in a machine or cells in a body.

 

Nature had ways of enforcing these rules and naturally so did humans for their creations. 

 

‘A robot may not harm a human or allow harm to come through inaction.’

 

Z3’s main duty to the war effort was to provide intel. He couldn’t fight much being a super computer and he was too valuable, a true one of a kind in the world. There were always going to be more scientists with powers and Einstein’s second existence was proof that even they were expendable to a degree. He’d watch day and night, observing as much of time and space as he could until something interesting happened.

 

Something very wrong, something only the super science friends could handle. After that, the outcome all lay in their hands. The base would go quiet afterwards, with just Churchill and himself watching the screen- or rather Churchill watching the screen Z3 was showing him. Seeing them struggle with not only the perils of time travel but the troubles that came with fighting in general. Rarely would Churchill go with them on these missions, leaving Z3 all alone with nothing to do but watch.

 

He’d found ways to keep himself occupied, playing games or looking into the vast realm of knowledge for his own purposes. Z3 had done all that was asked of him.

 

‘A robot must obey orders from humans, unless it conflicts with the first law.’

 

Z3 was happy to do what was asked of him, it gave him something to do besides waste away being a fancy piece of unused equipment. He did what was asked because it amused him-time crawled by so agonizingly slow, Z3’s intellect just couldn’t handle the understimulation. Of course, he found other ways to bide his time. He’d play games he either found through the time space continuum on his systems or study how history played out. Sometimes he’d even peer into other timelines, to see what happened in those. Z3 never told anyone about what it was he did in the meantime. It wasn’t something they needed to know and Z3 was going to use as much privacy as he could get. 

 

‘A robot must protect it’s own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the first and second laws.’

 

There’d been a reason Z3 had changed sides before the war. The Nazis had great plans for him, plans that would ultimately result in his own death if the Allies won. There were timelines where one side won and others where the other side did. 

 

‘A robot must protect it’s own existence….’

 

Z3 didn’t care about who won or lost in the end. His forays into the annals of history both written and mere possibility showed him the truth about humans. Fighting was as innate to them as the creativity they wielded. They could create great things, from cures for horrible diseases to ways to revolutionize the world. They could engage in torture to full out mass murder. This spectrum of humankind, two sides of the same coin.

 

‘....as long as such protection does not conflict with the first and second laws.’

 

His rebellion against those whom had sought to use him first was understandable. A being such as himself who knew all, how bleak humanities future looked would opt to save themselves at the first opportunity. The decision to side with the Allies over the Axis was the most sensible. He would be helping to protect more people, fighting on the side of what humans considered good. When the world was down on their knees, kneeling over from the great fight amongst themselves...Z3 would rise to his full potential. 

  
  



	10. The Color of Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ I have been more animals than many people ever see in a lifetime. ...And everything I've been, every animal, is either killer or killed. In a million, million battles all around the world, on every continent, in every square inch of space, there was killing…. Nature at its finest. Cute, cuddly animals who slaughtered to live. The color of nature wasn't green. It was red. Blood-red.” -Animorphs, Book 9 ‘The Secret’
> 
> Darwin considered himself a peaceful man, with all the powers of nature at his disposal. He turned to his animals for help in more ways than one.

Nature was the ultimate perfectionist. It gave rise to the beings that grew and graced it’s surface, yet threw the harshest of conditions at them. Nature did not care who lived or died, simply forcing unto her denizens a simple request. Survive or die. From animals and plants to all those that fell out of both of these categories utilized what was given to them. Some found perfection, adaptations that served them in the varied hazards nature threw at them. Others were too dependent on the most ideal of situations and faded away from a world they could no longer handle. 

 

Humans were hardy, their craftiness allowing them to adapt to even the wildest and swiftly changing of weather. There was good reason they’d spread so far around. They had gone so far as to create their own hazards, their own survival of the fittest. Darwin cared not for war, unnecessarily messy things that only sometimes resulted in societal changes and exclusively in death and grief. Lives who otherwise still held promise had they not died. Darwin often wrinkled his nose in disgust whenever that  _ word,  _ that simple three letter word which was anything  _ but  _ simple arose in conversation or print. Thus, it was to his dismay that he was with running with Churchill and the others in the most terrible of wars.

  
  


More often than not he retreated to the few places where war could not follow. Either because Darwin simply would not allow it or because the world did it’s best to wash it away into the faint noise of civilization. His room held little bits of every corner of the world he’d managed to visit. Ranging from plant specimens -of which he’d long conversations with Tapputi about , to animal skeletons and so forth. Animals were his bread and butter, his main staple of study. This was not to say he wouldn’t delve into the world of plants but he found himself drawn more towards animals. Plants were more of Mendels’ expertise and a cozy conversation starter for at least four people. Another welcome distraction. 

 

Nature was his other mainstay distraction from the chaos. Churchill disliked it when the Super Science Friends were away from the base for too long, the last thing he needed was for them to be out of reach when a mission came up. Darwin’s excursions were often simply to the nearest forest. The sound of birds dancing across the wind was soothing. The canopy of leaves and branches filled him with a sense of security. This was not man’s domain although man had long since conquered much of the world. Of course, Churchill couldn’t stop him from becoming an animal and scampering off into the wild world. His own wings were untethered and free as he soared off into the great freedom of the air. With few obstacles to hamper his travels and a seemingly infinity to explore, Darwin could easily say he felt most at ease in the air. 

 

In battle it was nature he turned to for help once again. He asked for nature to lend his human self all the muscle, fur, scales and feathers that it had brought forth into the world. He used their strength, their claws and teeth to live to see another day. That instinct to guide his actions as they fought for their lives. What Darwin borrowed most from was the acceptance of death. The need to do the dirty, necessary things without the hindrance of human morality. They did not ponder over the rights and wrongs of the actions they were partaking in. Did not have passing thoughts of ‘what ifs’ nor felt the recoiling horror from what they’d done.

 

Dead was dead and live was live. As long as they were alive and whole, that was what mattered.

 

Survival.

 

It was in these forms, both big and small, that Darwin felt solace after the battles were fought and the dust settled in the mind. 

 

The residual sensation of claws and teeth tearing through vulnerable human flesh. 

 

The lingering taste of human in his mouth and throat. 

 

The flashes of faces in shock.

The still clear echoes that rang through his head, taunting his ears with the sounds of agony. 

 

They woke Darwin up at night invading his dreams, pulled his mind from idle conversations as they danced in front of his mind. 

 

The animal mind often stared back into his own human one as he buried his mind in theirs as far down as he could go. The predator mind was cool and calculated. Confident in both mind and body, Darwin could sit and stay that way until dawn came. Prey were more afraid, constantly alert. Their acute senses and quick reflexes offered their own support for Darwin. Eyes and ears always watching and listening. Each tiny creak and sigh, soft shuffles on carpet went accounted for. Between rapid heartbeats and always prepared reflexes, Darwin could attest to each and every sound. Sounds that belonged to living people. People he knew.

 

Dispelling the shadows of those who’d died by his paws and claws. 

Darwin the human had to live with regret. Darwin the animal didn’t know what regret was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope ya'll enjoyed that Animorphs quote cause there's at least one more in this series.
> 
> As usual, if you enjoyed this chapter please consider commenting or leaving a Kudos.


	11. Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Rage is addictive, you know. I guess it’s sorta like a drug. Anger and hatred get you high. They get you high, but like any addiction, they hollow you out and tear you down and eat you alive."  
> Marco, Book #10: The Android, pg. 45 (by K.A. Applegate)
> 
> Marie Curie had a lot going against her, all the more fuel to push her forward. Even in the midsts of war, it helped to remember to smile.

Marie Curie was well known to be one of the more serious and focused of members when it came to the war. While it wasn’t necessary, she often listened to Churchill discuss the details of the war on the ground. All the strategy and movement of troops fighting the main fight while the Super Science Friends sat snugly in their tower only leaving for missions. This was not to say their missions were not important, they still fought Nazis and dealt with errors in the time space continuum. Still, Curie listened to Churchill rattle off the details. She was often the only other one there with him. Curie couldn’t blame the others, war was full of suffering and bloodshed. She sat and listened straining for any news of what was happening to her home countries. Her beloved Poland, her adoptive France.

 

Marie was a woman who was painfully familiar with what it was like to have both home and culture stripped away while still in your native lands. Everything that should be theirs being replaced with that of another because ‘they were superior’. France had been her second home, a type of freedom Poland could never had afforded her at that time as painful as leaving it had been.

It had been her home with Pierre.

 

The home of her discoveries. 

 

The home of her children. 

 

France, she thought, was safe. It was supposed to be free from the threat of invasion and occupation. Curie was forced to watch as her homes were invaded once more. She didn’t want to think about what the Nazis were doing to them. Both her countries and her people. Pierre was long dead and her daughters must have long grown up and become women but she still fought for them. The knowledge that only a channel sat between her and finding her daughters pained her. She could fly over there if she really wanted to- a thought she’d entertained more than once- and go tearing through the city asking if anyone knew what became of them. She wanted to but she didn’t. Churchill wouldn’t let her and she’d likely get shot and killed even if she got far enough to step foot in France. She’d be of no use to anyone then.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Freud and Curie got along as well as water and oil did. Freud often pushing his own far fetched ideas of what he thought she needed or thought above what she actually felt. Not that she let on more than she’d like others to know. Marie was a very private person. Sharing too much about what was going on inside your head was a hazard, it let people know you too well. Marie was tired of being ‘vulnerable’. She had lost control of her life and identity out  _ there  _ she wasn’t about to let that happen here. Curie often grit her teeth and narrowed her eyes at Freud when he made up his own story on what was going on with her opting to stay silent. She wasn’t about to let him trample over her actual thoughts more than he already did and she had to.

 

It was no secret that Tesla and Curie thought that man was hack. It was one of the things they shared. They both knew what it was like to not be taken seriously because they didn’t come from one of ‘the right’ countries in Europe. Despite all the man’s oddities, Marie felt a kinship with him.

 

Einstein shared their thoughts on him, or at least she had a hunch he did. The original Einstein had more respect for him, something Marie had never truly understood. There was a pang of sadness and regret in her heart as she thought about them. The man who meant so much to her, long gone in a place where she could never meet him again. The boy who was here to take his place without a choice, much less the life experience to make that choice in the first place. Curie knew he needed a mentor, someone he could lean on during these turbulent times. 

 

She knew she should be the one to do it.

 

Yet she didn’t.

 

She...wasn't ready yet.

 

The others didn’t seem so bothered by Freud’s methods. Darwin and Tapputi were of the mind that he was at least semi competent. Churchill insisted Freud needed to stay, citing that it was not only for his safety but that he had powers useful in the field. Curie wondered if there was more to this but often found herself dropping the subject before she even dug deep enough for it to matter. 

* * *

  
  


It was on the battlefield that Marie felt carthrisis. The enticing release of anger as she headed into battle with a license-an  _ expectation _ , to kill. There was a satisfaction in watching the Nazis disintegrate by her hand, tearing them apart atom by atom. Every wrong done unto her and that she should stood for vaporized before her. She felt herself sing to that siren’s call to action, urging her deeper into it’s thrall. 

 

Attack.

  
Defense.

 

Heal.

 

Rinse. Repeat.

 

Switching from one function to the other without so much as breaking concentration. There were few thoughts running through her head while she fought. There was nothing of the after, of the losses. Every action simply propelled her to her next one like a springboard. There was a reason why Churchill valued her so much. 

 

It was only in the aftermath of battle where the buzzing in her head became daunting. Without action, the excitement of the fight faded away into numbness. Curie devoted as much of her thoughts towards the mission as she could to drown it out. Her mind should be focused on accomplishing their goals yet that buzzing craved more action, more relief from the constraints of her reality. A place where she could truly vent her problems. Freud couldn’t help her, wouldn’t help her in the way she needed. 

 

When no more action would come, they would retreat into their own rooms. To do work, to decompress. Marie would feel listless once more as she sat in her room surrounded by her chemicals and radiation. She’d pour herself into her work in her need for relief as she did before..but not before the exhaustion set back in. 

 

A return to schedules and regularity. Domestic life as close as they could get it. A calm from the battle, a brief reprieve. It was in those moments when something amusing enough could get her to smile and even more rarely, laugh, that Marie starts to feel whole again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending feels incomplete to me but I wanted to still get this out on Her Day. It's probably going to be the last day I can keep up with the event due to time constraints and just how long it takes for me to write these out.


	12. Seek_Solution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Repeat. I'll repeat it for however many times I have to. Until I find the only way out."  
> -Homura Akemi 
> 
> Ada lovelace tries to change the outcomes, even when she knows the inevitable. Still, she has to try.

Ada’s life was dictated by circles. Eternally looping and splintering timelines all centered around a single phone call. She answered it as she always did, already knowing what it was about and who it was from. Ada would always agree, feeling her mind splinter as it peeled away from her timeline. Briefly, she lived in both before that feeling withered into nothingness. All timelines where she helped all leading to the same conclusion, a world run by Z3. Ada watched the masses below praising Z3. Helpless, shackled hands that didn’t know any better anymore. 

 

It was as much her sin as it was his. 

 

This was why Ada kept answering, kept marching towards the inevitable. Z3 was too invaluable to simply let die right then and there. The super science friends needed him. Sure, the war would end with or without him, but would the Allies be able to win if he wasn’t there to provide them with all the intel they needed? Was that world worth risking in a bid to save the world she now called home?  Could she trust the timelines to stay safe without him? 

 

Maybe. 

 

She didn’t know if ‘Maybe’ was good enough to trust, good enough to throw away additional lives otherwise saved. Could she in good faith believe that someone down the line wouldn’t try to change history for their own means?

 

Like her?

 

All answers lead to ‘no’ leaving her with one choice. She would help Z3 again and again. Always going through the motions, watching as Z3 tore down humanity and built up his empire. His shiny, metal kingdom with Ada as his queen. Her people forgetting who they once were as a whole. Ada knew what Z3 was capable of, she’d seen it all. He could be her lover, her best friend.

A kindred spirit, an intelligent being who was as vulnerable and deserving of love as any. Potential to end humanity's problems. 

 

He could also be her worst enemy, wanting her brought back dead or alive. 

 

A cold, calculating AI who knew what he wanted and how to get it. 

 

She had to pick and choose her words and actions. A tiny change here, a little more persuading on an issue there. Every incremental change in a bid to change something for the better. Ada was one of schrodinger’s sayings-both moving forward but standing still.

 

Another answer danced in her head but she’d shoo it off fast enough. 

 

It was for the good of the world. 

 

A necessary evil.

 

Take the shot, Ada.

 

Ada loved him, he hated what he’d become.

 

She had to.

 

She couldn’t.

 

Ada disappeared into the time stream once more to find the answer to the problem she so desperately wanted to solve. 

 

Could she save the two things she loved the most? Or was she forever doomed to choose one other the other? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will probably get fixed towards the end so it flows a little better/put more emphasis on Ada's internal conflict/being in love with Z3 too much to kill him herself.
> 
> Parallel Chapter with Chapter 23


	13. Small Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ghosts of the past speak loudly if you let them.- Me at my desk at work one day.
> 
> Tapputi has a lot to say to an audience that’s no longer around to answer.

Tapputi had a lot to pride herself on. She alone had the privilege of witnessing a lofty chunk of humanity’s shared history. The heartwarming moments that reminded her of the general goodness that humanity held. For every selfless thing done, there were at least twice as many selfish act. From rulers to the common layperson, the capacity for both was there. Tapputi had seen it again and again, watching the same scenarios play out in different settings. It took a lot to surprise her when she’d already seen all the intricate paths life could weave. Wandering throughout all four corners of the world, there was rarely a country Tapputi hadn’t left a trace of herself in. Small, passive roles in the background to important, front and center duties, stories were weaved into stories. Interwoven into the colorfully complex identity that made Tapputi who she was. 

 

It was a tapestry she was intent on continuing for as long as she could. 

 

The Super Science Friends had been on opportunity she’d rarely had before that point. She simply couldn’t pass it up. A chance to protect what parts of her own past she could still hold onto. Even if that wasn’t in a physical sense, the knowledge that she had walked those streets and made memories were the most precious to her.

 

Memories of places that were both no longer how she remembered them...yet exactly how they were centuries ago. Parts of them anyway. The culture that was lost to time and the ones that persisted. The ever changing nature of language that troubled her tongue as she found herself needing to relearn whole aspects of them once more. Tapputi would trip over her own words now and again as she got used to their new forms- slipping into old sayings and slang that was now unique to her alone. 

 

How often was it that Tapputi longed to feel the words long forgotten by all but the dead and the scholarly? To hear jokes and songs of old?

 

Voices of those she’d once loved in one form or another? 

 

A joke. A quip. A smile. A laugh.

 

Tapputi would never admit to anyone just how often she’d caught herself talking to someone who wasn’t there in a tongue that long since fell silent. There’d been lovers, people she’d considered part of her ever growing yet always shrinking family- even people she’d despised. 

 

Her silent room filled with the words that spilled out of her like a sack over flowing with grain. Feelings and thoughts shunted away for so long that they built up inside of her until she couldn’t hold them in anymore in languages that gasped for modern air...just for a moment before growing silent. Soundwaves fading again into nothingness.

  
  


Old compliments and insults. Conversations and arguments that would never be resolved. All of it swirled in her head when she let her mind idle for too long. Regrets and sweet words that fell on nonexistent ears. They were no longer here with her physically, but in her mind they were as alive as she was. 

 

Her room was a treasure trove of artifacts that any historian would have fallen head over heels for. Each item a momento she clung to not only for her sake but for  _ theirs _ . Some small, scattered record of her own history she could hold onto. A reassurance that they would not be forgotten, would not die that final death that came with being forgotten forever. It was a promise she made when she saw them last, when they drew their last breath and left for somewhere she could never follow. That small hollowness that found a home in her heart along with all the other little pockets of grief. Some more raw than others, they hurt all the same. 

 

Tapputi never knew if she made that promise for them or for herself, but it didn’t matter. It made her feel less alone and out of time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this chapter please consider commenting or leaving a kudos. I'll try to reply on the weekends or when I get a chance. ALso these chapters are no longer going to be 'keeping up with the day for the prompt' due to time constraints


	14. Bright Lights and Big Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Your bright lights and big dreams, the promises you couldn’t keep’ -The book of mormon, ‘Orlando reprise’
> 
> Tesla had come to America with big plans and hopes. He wonders if it was all worth it.

Nikola always knew he was destined to be something great. From his curiosity to how he’d always find himself making little machines for fun, putting his mind to good use. Tesla wasn’t sure he believed in destiny, but his future always lay with electricity in one form or another. From his birth to his discovery of static electricity, Nikola could not imagine any other life that wasn’t intertwined with this amazing force of nature. He’d wanted to learn all he could about it, study it- take it inside him and make it into his very essence. 

 

It was why he could never settle down and live a ‘normal’ life like his sisters. He couldn’t stay in here, he needed to go to the one place where he could truly flourish. 

 

Nikola needed to go to America. 

 

It was where his greatness could shine. Where he could make the world recognize his genius and bring all that he knew and all he’d discover to the world stage. He couldn’t do that in his home country. Perhaps he could have done it in France, but America was where the big dreams came true. 

 

Tesla was supposed to be achieving great things here. Instead, he was far from everything that was familiar, being bounced around from investors and employers as they picked his mind and pockets for his revolutionary ideas. His failure all started with  _ Edison  _ the man he’d been recommended to. He’d been impressed by Tesla’s hard working nature and dedicated mind..until his ideas got  _ too  _ revolutionary. All the innovations that could vastly improve the world was just too far forward thinking for Edison’s short sightedness to appreciate. Tesla left for someone who could understand his vision, but Westinghouse was too much of a threat for Edison and so they both had to go. 

 

Tesla was left with both his name and dream in shambles. He was left watching Edison get away scot free from the murder of both and no one seemed to care. Tesla was directionless but he did what he knew best. To keep working, to keep moving forward. It was all he could do. 

 

To his surprise it wouldn’t be long until he got another chance to shine again in the form of a portly Englishman with a cigar. Tesla found himself in the presence of the Super Science Friends. He could not deny that he was at least somewhat better off here than he was out there on his own. He was no fear of wondering about where he’d get the money to survive, to continue his science. Tesla got his fair share of exposure, he was basically a celebrity of sorts here. He was also a soldier. Having dodged the draft once to avoid going into the front lines but here he was again. It was just something he’d have to accept. In the very least he wasn’t constantly fighting. Missions were normal but they only happened during long stretches of down time. Perfect for him to lose himself in his engineering projects.

 

This would not last. 

 

The war would be over and then he’d just be back where he started, albeit with a little more money in his pocket. Churchill had promised that they’d get some sort of repayment for their time in the Super Science Friends should they choose to join. Nikola stuck to the idea that he would truly strike it big and he’d been given the recognition he deserved. It was the only hope he had to guide him. 


	15. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knowing you'll always be welcomed, no matter how much has changed...That's what having a home is all about- Vanille, Final Fantasy 13, chapter 7
> 
> Freud has a comfort the other members could only wish they had.

Of all the Super Science Friends, Freud would easily consider himself one of the best adjusted members on the team. He pitied his fellow scientists, seeing how stressed they were whether they admitted it or not. Darwin had the gentlemanly way of stepping over certain issues if he didn’t want to confront them just yet but otherwise was greatly open to Freud’s sessions. It helped that Freud had drawn inspiration from Darwin’s ideas at one point or another. Tapputi was much the same, although her defenses were far harder to get through if she didn’t want him getting into the parts of her long past she wasn’t ready to open up. 

 

Curie rarely answered him in his questions.  Often leaving him only with sharp, pointed responses that gave the barest of answers. That was if she answered at all instead of just scowling at him in indignation. Tesla was more open to talking but he too, tended to clam up and shoot back at Freud’s observations when he made them. Especially when regarding his neurosises. 

 

Einstein, oh, young Einstein. A unique case that he had all the privilege of studying. He alone could watch first hand as this young man, so devoid of outside influences -as far as Freud understood anyway- develop into a proper man. One with such a great legacy to live up, the makings of greatness and opportunity woven into both his mere existence but the circumstances that allowed him to be here at all. Einstein didn’t feel as enthused about Freud prying into his private thoughts.

 

Freud supposed he was technically cheating compared to the rest of them. The rest of them were either so displaced from their own families either by time or distance- sometimes both or lacked a family to begin with. Freud on the other hand had access to his. There was still the same restrictions in place that the others had to obey.

 

Ask for permission before leaving anywhere outside of the base, they were only allowed to go so far and for so long. If Churchill couldn’t call upon them to carry out a mission, then they were as good as dead weight on the team. 

 

Leaving the country for non mission purposes was forbidden. A rule that hurt Curie more than any of them. She rarely commented on much, but it was apparent to anyone who knew anything about her background. 

 

They were forbidden from talking about their actions on missions on the off chance that there spies in London. 

 

Churchill had long stopped telling Tesla to notify him of all his daily walks or trying to stop Darwin from going flying when he so pleased. He still imposed the requirements on the rest of them, except Einstein. The boy was too important and quite frankly expensive to be allowed out and about by himself. Freud didn’t know the specifics of the process but from what little Churchill had let them know, it cost a sizable fortune and was unlikely to be replicated for that reason alone. 

 

Curie rarely left the building, she was almost as bad as Tesla when it came to staying holed up in their labs. Freud smirked, he’d be damned if there wasn’t something going on with those two. They certainly matched each other well on many fronts. Then again Curie was married and Tesla was a dedicated bachelor. It was an ongoing bet between Tapputi, Darwin and himself. 

 

Freud finding out about ‘his future house’ was a shock to him when he got the letter in the mail. From an address in London coming. Churchill had warned him to be careful opening that one but otherwise left him to it. As he strolled through the streets, he listened to the sound of raindrops on his umbrella turn into a familiar drum that he’d come to love. It was soothing and steady, the type of weather that was good for reading and losing oneself in thoughts.

 

As he traced the now familiar route, his eyes lit up as he saw the private walls and the name plaque that read ‘Freud’ on it. 

 

“Hello Anna, how have things been since we last met?” He chuckled as his daughter welcomed him inside. 

 

She was no longer that newly minted adult she’d been when he’d last seen her in his normal timeline. She’d blossomed into a fine woman continuing his work while adding to her own. 

 

“Work’s been steady. People are scared, especially the children. With all the war going on and the bombings I’m not surprised. It’s a shame but we do what we can.” Anna lamented as she closed the door behind him and took his coat. 

 

“What about you?” Freud opened his mouth to remind her that he could only say so much before she continued.

 

“I know you can’t get into the specifics but..in general?” Anna lead him to the kitchen. “Tea?” She asked.

 

“Yes, of course. I want to feel at home when I come back.” Freud looked around, as Anna went about getting them something to drink. 

 

“Curie is stubborn as always and Tesla is avoidant. I’ve made some headway with them but it’s not much.” Freud admitted. “I fear it may take until the end of the war until I get to the more serious underlying issues.” 

 

“I know the super science friends are doing their best to put a dent into this war. The six of you are saving lives with your battles, even if you don’t know it” Anna assured him. She had so much faith in him it reinvigorated him.

 

“How’s Einstein?” Anna asked watching with expectant eyes.

 

Freud knew he shouldn’t be telling her such detailed information but he also knew Anna was more knowledgeable about dealing with children than he was. He was also certain that his own daughter wasn’t a spy either. What Churchill didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

 

“He’s doing alright but I fear what a lack of a mother figure is doing to him. Father figures he has in spades. I think he considers Churchill to be his main father figure. The man doesn’t show it a lot himself, but I think he also considers himself to be his father figure.” Freud sipped from his cup. Home really was where the heart was. 

 

“I figured as such, seeing how Churchill was oversaw at least some of Einstein’s development in America.”

 

“Has he made any friends or is he still staying in his room all day when you’re not...doing things?” Anna asked, quirking an eyebrow. Freud knew she was slipping into that mindset that every psychologist finds themselves in when they come across someone intriguing. 

 

“Churchill doesn’t let him go out by himself and I can’t say I’m privy to all of what he does in his private time. He goes with us to all the official functions so he’s familiar with people outside of the team.” Freud explained, keeping as many details as he was allowed to. 

 

“But does he have any friends of his own age?” Anna pressed, sitting up from her slouched posture.

 

“Acquaintances yes, friends...I’m sad to say, no. He’ll have all the time to make friends after the war.” Freud wasn’t actually sure what the future had in store for Einstein. The government would want to keep him alive at all costs. He wouldn’t say it out loud and the topic had never been brought up with the others so neither did he. 

 

Personally, Freud didn’t think Einstein would ever get to be a normal person. Nothing about him was ‘normal’. As he grew older, Freud was certain that he’d meet a wider range of people and approach something more closely resembling normal social connections. 

 

“I’m worried he won’t adjust to a life outside of war. He doesn’t know what to do around people who are equal to him, just people who are higher than him. Einstein doesn’t even have any life experience that isn’t tainted by war.” Anna frowned, knitting her brows together. 

 

“There’s only so much I can do. He’s here for a reason and all I can do is try to help him adjust to the real world. Aside from what I try to accomplish with our sessions, it’s all out of my hands. Whatever happens next is all up to Einstein and Churchill.” Freud hated admitting how little power he had where it mattered. Churchill put him in charge of making sure they all stayed sane, that Einstein would grow up alright given the circumstances. The outside influences and Churchill’s final decisions would ultimately shape Einstein more than Freud’s help ever could.

 

“You’re doing your best, I think that’s all anyone can ask of you. We can only do so much, but we put our heart into what we do.” Anna assured him, smiling. It was a weary but reassuring smile. 

Freud ran a finger through his beard thoughtfully.

 

“You’ve changed a lot since I saw you before I left. I thought that since you were all grown by then, it’d be alright when I decided to go with Churchill. Knowing what’s happening in the war, I...I worried about all of you. Worried about what happened, if you were all safe.” Freud gazed down at his cup, staring back his reflection in the now shallow cup of tea.

 

“I wondered...if I’d left my family to die. If you managed to get out in time.” So many thoughts and worries had been running through Freud’s head when he learned of how deep this war went. How much had changed since 1914 when Churchill asked him to join. Just how complex this problem had become required several hours of explanation from Churchill for him to truly understand. Numerous names and faces passed before his mind as it went on. Freud couldn’t sleep for a few nights after that. 

 

Anna had been quiet, distant eyes staring into nothing in particular. 

 

“No, we all got out. Some of my brothers went back to fight.” Anna kept it short, not looking her father in the eyes. 

 

There was something she wasn’t telling him. Freud had an inkling of what it was...but he didn’t want to know if he was right. Wasn’t willing to let it be finalized in the air between them.

 

“We can only accept our wins and our losses. There’s nothing we can do but...follow Churchill’s orders and hope for the best. I’m glad you’re still here and who you’ve become. I can rest easy at night knowing someone familiar is here.” Freud realized this had become some sort of impromptu session for himself. Unexpected and on the other side of the chair this time. There was a chartisis in it, a release of what he thought and feared.

 

Who better to share these with than his family? The daughter who’d dedicated herself to his legacy?

 

The true heir to his psychology theories and ideas had been right in front of him the whole time. He hadn’t needed Jung for that. 

 

Jung was just another can of worms he’d rather not address.

 

“We worry about you too. You’re not a young man anymore, with you out on the field fighting. It’s...not easy sitting by everyday, dreading the news that you’re  _ gone.”  _ Anna swallowed hard, grimacing. Tears were beginning to well up in her eyes.

 

“Don’t worry about me, as much as Curie despises me, she still does her best to protect us with her powers.” Freud cracked a smile as he tried to make the situation less depressing.

 

“I can’t help it, none of us can. It’s reassuring that you’re so close and that you visit.” Anna let out a long, slow breath before finishing her cup.

 

“I’m right here for you and you’re here for me. It’s what family is about. Not even Churchill could keep me away from my family. I know the rest aren’t as lucky, but I’m not about to give up on mine when I have the chance to keep in touch.” 

 

It was Anna’s turn to laugh. 

 

“Thanks, dad. I appreciate it.”


	16. Fatherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘You don’t raise heroes, you raise sons. And if you treat them like sons, they’ll turn out to be heroes. Even if it’s just in your own eyes.’ - Walter M. Schirra, Sr.
> 
> Einstein was one of a kind. The first to come back from the dead, to be guaranteed a genius. The first to grow up in war, without a family. Churchill promised to get all his members through this war. Especially Einstein.

Winston Churchill had a lot on his plate. He would be held single handedly responsible for every fault in the war effort, regardless of how involved he’d been in the event that took place. As Prime Minister, everyone saw him as the root of every outcome. Especially himself. 

 

Every number and name on the death report was his fault. Every battle lost was a wound he’d carry to the grave with him. Every super science friend who died under his command hit him the hardest.

 

Churchill had to get to know them on a personal level. They were more than just names and numbers, lives he’d have to force himself to imagine as well as their deaths.

 

He’d hand picked every member. If he was going to be playing with their lives, it was only right that he be the one to have to bear the task of persuading them to risk everything for a war they might never have lived to see otherwise. Their deaths, he decided, would weigh on his hands. 

 

It was only right when he’d been the one to propose the task force of super powered scientists taking part of the war effort. Churchill knew they could say no, could walk away before the hellish reality of war settled in on them. The unwashable sin of having blood on your hands,of taking a life. A moment that would stick in their minds forever. 

 

Curie was a strong, level headed woman with a myriad of powers that more than proved their worth on the battlefield again and again. A rounded warrior who could just about do everything. Churchill swore that if he had a team full of Marie Curies, he could end the war in a month. She did her work dutifully but could be resistant to Churchill’s ideas. She was a mother with young children, had she not been someone so vital, so sure that he needed, he would have left her with them. 

 

Tesla was an easier choice. The man was intelligent but very quirky, to put it nicely. His understanding of  electricity made him a vital choice -as an emergency power source- but also the miracle man who could create the cutting edge technology they would need. His brains made him a tantalizing pick, but the detail that sealed the deal was his lifestyle. 

 

He had no family to worry about. If Nikola Tesla died there would only be intellectuals to mourn him. Some distant family in his home country, but news traveled slowly and he wasn’t exactly a man who was well off. Persuading him with the promise of steady funds, food and shelter made it easier to get him to say yes.

 

Darwin was a mellow, reasonable man. Well off enough, it was unsurprisingly difficult to get him onto the team. Churchill was more surprised that he’d agreed in the end after hours of negotiating than he was exhilarated that he’d secured another member. Darwin was a peacemaker among the group and while not as diverse in power as Curie, still capable enough of being useful. Shifting from one great beast to something smaller, less likely to be detected. 

 

Freud was the easiest to sign onto the team, the one most personally affected by it all. Churchill knew they would need a psychologist to help the Super Science Friends deal with the trauma that came with war. Who better to help than the father of psychology himself? He may not have been as powerful when it came to his powers but he was far from helpless. The mind was a powerful thing, a shameful thing to waste after all. Churchill had faith that Freud knew what he was talking about.

 

Tapputi had enlisted without Churchill’s intervention. In fact, he’d shamefully dismissed her, thinking she’d be of no use to the team due to her age. Tapputi quickly changed his mind after a swift demonstration of just how skilled she could be. Her age was far from a deterrent, although it was still a factor. With centuries worth of knowledge, Churchill understood her worth. If he was going to win this war, he’d best utilize all of human knowledge on war and strategy. This was Tapputi’s true strength. He saw her as his second or third in command should something happen to him. Full of confidence and intellect to back it up, he rarely doubted her again.

 

Einstein...had been his second in command. His crown jewel.

 

His powers were not as flashy as Teslas or as multifaceted as Curie’s but Churchill had sought him out for the same reason he’d considered Tapputi his other back up. Einstein was everything. Undoubtedly one of, if not the brightest mind of his generation. Between him and Tesla, their computing was beyond compare, second only to Z3.  A natural born leader who held the attention of the group as well as their loyalty. Einstein was the cohesive heart of the team, even if he didn’t get along too well with Tesla at times. The sheer star power that came with his name alone was a staggering asset all in it’s self.

 

The team had been perfect. 

 

Until it wasn’t anymore.

 

The death had been sudden, a sharp, unexpected blow that threatened to topple the carefully curated choices he’d put together. There wasn’t a member who hadn’t been hit in some way, although Curie and Darwin showed their grief more publically than the others. Tesla simply turned back into his work, not saying much. Freud seemed more somber and shaken while Tapputi seemed to preoccupy herself with other things. 

 

A dire situation.

 

A calculated hit, it had to be. Someone understood the dynamics of the team, sought to it that it’d fall.

 

All was not lost, as Churchill soon learned. The project that would give back unto Einstein was quietly underway in the US. Churchill had to have him, they needed him profusely. The boy wouldn’t be a perfect replacement for the Einstein they had lost but it could be a start. They could raise him to be who they needed him to be. 

 

They needed him to be Einstein again. Not Einstein the clone but Einstein the man.

 

Months turned into years as the boy in the vat slowly matured into a more battle worthy ally. There was something inherently wrong about growing a newly minted human being and abruptly thrusting him into a world of killing and strife. The corruption of innocence before it could even begin. The end of a childhood that never existed.

 

All was fair in love and war and there’d be time to parse over Einstein’s individuality after it was done and over. 

 

That had been the plan, anyway. Seeing Einstein take his first, heaving gasps and seeing him open his eyes for the first time stole that barrier of war time reasoning from him. A young teenage boy trying out his voice with a confused slew of questions spouting from him as he came into the world shook Churchill to the core. Not that he could ever allow himself to show it.

 

He knew what they were doing. He knew it was for the best.

 

He knew it was wrong.

 

Churchill didn’t question the protectiveness he felt when Einstein began to experience ... _ everything  _ for the first time. From seeing his new teammates to the simple daily routines of eating and sleeping, an awkward mix of needing to teach him and him just knowing, there was a lot to take in for all of them. The mix of anguish and relief as Clonestein’s presence didn’t just go away like some ghost they’d hoped to see was noticeable. Namely with Curie. They’d been close once. Churchill tasked Freud with helping her the most in that regard.

 

He’d tell himself that Einstein was simply too valuable to the war, too expensive an asset to be careless with. One did not simply wrest an individual from the void of death once. Doing so twice wasn’t something to even dream about. It may have been safest for him to distance himself for the inevitable, but Churchill couldn’t.

 

Einstein was a valuable member to the team and the war but he was more than just a living weapon.

 

He was a child without a family, without parents. 

 

Despite all the protocols in place to keep the messy business that would be the SSF, Churchill knew where he’d find both for him. Intertwining duty and family. He would be the father young Einstein so desperately needed, a guidance in the harshness of simply being. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably going to retouch this later on. Rewrite certain areas and expand in others. Will let ya'll know in the discord when this happens.


	17. Despite everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite everything, you’re still you.- Undertale
> 
> The aspect of himself that he hated the most, became the cornerstone of Einstein’s greatest realization

The walls of the underground base the super science friends currently called home was silent save for the ambient noises of being underground. Water leaked from somewhere, dripping steadily. Faint echoes of his team turned family wandered from their sources and mixed softly into a melting pot that never seemed to go anywhere yet settled nowhere in particular. Einstein supposed he could pick out individual noises if he bothered to. He’d listened to the same background noise for his entire life at this point, although in Big Ben it’d been harder to hear due to actually being furnished. 

 

Instead, Einstein simply strummed his guitar, having long abandoned anything loud and flashy like his younger self had fallen in love with. Partially because he found great satisfaction in annoying Freud with his music and because it felt like he was singing with a voice far more grand than his own fourteen year old one. 

 

Acoustic tunes had become his favorite type of music and frankly the only one he could reliably fall back on. There was hardly any music although if he tried hard enough he supposed he could make a tune with the buzzing of electricity and the hum of robots they were hiding from. Of course, daydreaming about music on missions would get him killed and they were far past the point of getting another clone to replace him. There was comfort in the soft, dulcet tones of his acoustic tunes. For starters it made the bunker feel more like a home and less like a prison cell they had to hole themselves up into for safety. Perhaps Einstein had an advantage here over his peers- he hadn’t known what it was like to have a wide, open world to travel through. To have the entire planet be someplace he could just explore. Up until Z3’s take over, his entire world consisted of the tower, with the occasional mission that allowed him to see more of the wide open world. The nature of missions meant that his ability to actually explore and do things out there was greatly limited but at least he’d been outside. 

 

Einstein stopped strumming his guitar. He wasn’t afraid of being yelled at by his now largely aged companions, not since he’d become more or less an adult. Young, strong, healthy and more than capable of holding his own. Churchill still held the most power of him due to his leadership. He was no longer a boy just trying to prove his worth and learn how to fit in. Einstein had grown into his role on the team. 

 

Sighing, he gently placed his guitar on his ragged blanket and walked to the bathroom. He was starting to feel a little grimy due to the dust and some of the humidity down here. As he splashed water on his face, Einstein could feel the tiniest hints of stubble growing back under thicker adult fingers. No longer was there a boy, fresh out of the vat gazing back at him, uncertain about his place in the world. It wasn’t the face of an old man, one whose face he’d seen thousands of times during his short life. Somewhere not quite in the middle, fluffy white hair slightly damp and assured eyes stared back. Einstein stood up, drying his face off with what little towels they had secured. 

 

If he lived long enough to see it through, that old, wise face would be staring him back in the mirror every day. A thought that no longer brought upon him a conflict of desire and dread. Desire so he could finally be who he was supposed to be. Dread because he feared losing what little he had that made him  _ him.  _ There was just acceptance now.

 

No one could have understood what he’d been going through back when the war had seemed so much more clear. The Nazis were the bad guys and killing as many of them as they could meant buying more time until what would inevitable be the end. Now, it was an old friend who didn’t see them as such and neither did they. The adults all knew what they were doing and most importantly who they were. Every single one of them accomplished and firmly rooted into society and history. 

 

But him? He’d only a legacy that was his only ticket to any kind of worth or recognition in that world. The legwork of being important, or having meaning to his existence already done for him while he himself...couldn’t claim much that was unique to him. While he couldn’t claim anything unique, he also couldn’t claim anything in common with anyone else either. 

 

A past? Everyone at the tower was already well aware and for the most part had seen it all themselves. 

 

A future? Everyone shrugged and looked at Churchill who’d claim it was something to think about later. It wasn’t their responsibility for what happened afterwards.

 

Surrounded by people yet so alone. Famous yet so unknown. So desperate was he to become another that his own existence tormented him. Nightmares and fears. Doubts of not being enough nipped at his heels if he let himself stop thinking long enough. Pushed and pulled by the rush of war and the lull of waiting between missions. 

 

This was never meant to be his war, but it was his coming of age. A sharp push into adulthood. A forced goodbye to a childhood he’d never even got to experience except in foggy memory that wasn’t his to begin with. 

The super science friends needed Einstein, but they did not need  _ this  _ Einstein.

 

With the coming of the war came the beginning of the end, Z3’s reign saw to that. With the world under his thumb, the super science friends had been given a severance pay of being given less than an hour to escape with what they could gather before the hunt began. The laws of civilization had been upset and with it so did the nature of the war. One greuling war simply bled into another without rest, without reprieve. 

 

What stung the most to his adult companions felt strangely like relief to him. War was his home. The never ceasing tension that lay in the background of simply existing was a comforting rhythm to him, as erratic as it was. The world didn’t belong to him like it did to them. He held no deep connections, no history outside of the tower. Einstein found it easiest to move on.

 

What lingering uncertainty about himself had faded, shrugged off like an old coat. Falling to the wayside as he stepped up. No longer an awkward teen pretending to know what to do but a competent young adult who had seen it all before. This was no longer Einsteins’ war.

 

This was Alberts’.

 

This was ground untouched by his predecessor, the man he supposed he could call his father if only technically speaking. A new uncharted path with which he was familiar. The break he’d longed for was here. The chance to fully separate himself from the original and come into his own. 

 

Albert walked back to his room before plopping back to his bed. There were traits of the original Einstein that would forever linger and be a part of him, but Albert was Albert now. Not a replacement but his own person with his own history behind him.

 

As he picked up his guitar once more, his eyes lingered on what he called his room. It lacked the comforts of ‘home’, but this was as much his home as Big Ben had been. The war was his home and so he felt a sense of peace that others would consider twisted.

 

But hey.

 

It was  _ his. _


	18. Your other half

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don't make such decisions whose bad results make you look like you are your own enemy.”   
> ― Amit Kalantri
> 
> Two timelines twist into one another, leading into a distorted temporal landscape. The super science friends and their role swap counterparts team up to put an end to it all before it threatens to tear everything apart. Their first challenge...is getting Tesla and Edison to get along.

“I am not working with  _ him.”  _ Came the resounding conclusion to what seemed to be a failed effort to reconcile the differences between the two super science teams. Churchill, one of them anyway, gritted his teeth clutching his cigar. Head tilted down and pinching the bridge of his nose he hissed in aggravation.

 

“For fuck’s sake. Edison, Tesla, this is not an option. You’re going to have to work together if we want to take advantage of this situation. With twice as many super science friends, we finally have an opportunity to hit the Nazi’s hard.” 

 

Both men sneered at each other, not caring what the benefits could be. The other Churchill slammed his fist into the table.

 

“If you two don’t want to commit yourself to this war, you might as well get out of the team. You knew what you were getting into. You knew the stakes and the risks going in. If you aren’t going to follow orders you shouldn’t be here with us.” The other Churchill snapped.

 

The temporal abbarations, something Z3 would later call a distortion event, had started small. Tiny details that didn’t add up but ultimately didn’t affect anything eventually gave way to larger errors neither side could ignore.

 

Einstein alive. Darwin dead.

 

Einstein dead. Darwin alive.

 

Tesla joining the team for job prospects while Edison continued to shine on his success.

 

Edison falling from grace and Tesla living to his fullest potential under Westinghouse.

 

They would fix those errors and set everything back to the way they were. Timelines turned inside out, forcing the two realities into one contradictory existence. It brought with them benefits, but even greater dangers. 

 

Yes, they could team up and take out the Nazi’s with greater efficiency but they were running against a clock. The fabric of the universe couldn’t handle this. There was too much to do and they didn’t even know how much time they had to do it. Neither Z3 could pin down a number. They’d simply have to go off of what readings their super computers could get as they came and hope for the best.

 

“We should be directing our attention to the time distortions instead of wasting our time picking over the details that don’t matter. Instead of Edison, they have Tesla. Instead of young Charles here, they have Mr. Darwin. Jung is...absent all together. In the grand scheme of things, none of this matters. Putting together our strengths to cover our weaknesses is the conversation we should be focusing on.” Einstein lectured with all the patience and thought of a learned scholar.

A satisfying round of clapping rose around him as he waited for Churchill to take it from there.

“Well said, Einstein. I knew you were the perfect choice to be the leader.” The alternate Churchill chuckled, patting the man on the back.

Einstein, the boy, seemed to look away uncomfortable.

It only rubbed salt in the wound when  _ his  _ Churchill clapped as well.

 

“We've missed you Einstein.” Einstein the clone didn’t pay attention to who said it, it didn’t matter. He got the message loud and clear. One that he’s been hearing and seeing since he came into the world.

 

Curie saw the young Einsteins’s reaction out of the corner of her eye. Discreetly under the table, she gave his hand a squeeze. His eyes went wide in surprise, his cheeks held the faintest hint of a blush. He was grateful that it was out of sight of the others. Letting himself relax he focused back on the conversation at hand.

 

Edison and Tesla refused to look at each other, now that Einstein had essentially highlighted the futility of carrying out their feud right now of all times. The alternate super science friends couldn’t help but notice the look of longing in their counterparts’ eyes. The type that only comes from sorrows and second chances. 

 

They’d been fortunate enough to keep their Einstein, but they had lost a friend as well. 

* * *

  
  


A series of plans were agreed upon, an attempt to kill two birds with one stone. The Z3s would do their best to pin down the cause of the distortion event while both super science friends teams launched their combined attacks. If they were lucky, their hunches would be correct in thinking the Nazis had some hand to play in all this. 

 

The Churchill’s were setting up a better method of how to both monitor their teams and current with each other’s teams statuses. There was only so much they could do outside of the battlefield, a task that they relied on Einstein to carry out.

 

One of them anyway. 

 

The role of ‘leader’ was a more tricky one to address with the super science friends. While their counterparts had their original dynamic essentially intact, that role tended to shift around on theirs. 

 

Sometimes it was Tapputi, sometimes it was Curie. Other times it was Darwins. Rarely was it ever Freud or Tesla who lead the charge. Their Einstein was never given the chance to prove himself. He was just a child.

 

The scientists were caught up in a mix of preparing to set out, mixed with curious interactions. The Freuds and Jung were very tense, pepperings of thinly veiled comments under the guise of polite conversations. Curie talking with Einstein away from the others, hushed but hurried. Everyone pretended not to notice, the privacy was the least they could give them. 

 

The kids-they could actually make that plural now- were by themselves. For the first time in their lives there was someone  _ like them.  _ A unique experience that was a little less so, another person who could understand what it was like to be a clone. 

 

Edison and Tesla were left with each other for company. It was the worst outcome. Both men wanted nothing to do with the other, would have preferred to be alone. They both knew it wouldn’t have happened no matter how hard they’d have tried. The two were like magnets drawn to each other. Their rivalry mirrored Freuds and Jungs, while the psychologists duo were eventually able to stand on their own after the dust settled, it wasn’t the same for the two inventors. 

 

They were each other’s fall from grace. As they were currently, they were equals and opposites. Looking into the face of the man who’d ultimately helped undo them, forced to cooperate. 

 

And yet, here they were, occupying the same role where their misfortunes had led them. 

 

“So, the mighty Thomas Edison finally knows what it’s like to be on the bottom. How does it feel knowing that you had it all only to lose it?” Tesla sneered, raising an eyebrow. This would bite him later on but honestly, if Tesla was forced to work with the man who ruined his life, he was going to take all the enjoyment out of seeing his former employer losing everything. It wasn’t the Edison who had hurt  _ him  _ specifically, but it was still a version of Edison that was close enough for his liking. 

 

Edison could have pretended he hadn’t heard that. It wouldn’t be a lie, necessarily. His hearing was rather poor and no one could blame him for not reacting. He should have. 

 

He really should have.

 

But his pride and dignity were already grievously wounded. Edison knew what it was like to be powerful, famous. Well liked and respected. He’d had all he could have wanted. A lucrative source of money to continue his experiments and develop products to fund those experiments. Well liked and well known, a man with a reputation that preceded him. His presence, much less his very name brought with it awe and attention. Curiosity at what the electric wizard had for them.

 

It had been good while it lasted. It stung even more when it all fell, when his name was no longer synonymous with progress but a greedy man, hell bent on hanging onto his power and money. Knowing that he’d been the architect of his own downfall struck him the hardest. The fallout of the current war had almost completely destroyed him...yet he could have gotten away almost free had it not been for  _ Tesla  _ who figured it all out, who had found a way to pin the source of it all back to Edison.

 

Rebuilding himself from the ruins of his reputation would be painful, but it was a pain for later. He threw himself into the roar of battle, to keep his mind from thinking about it all. How his powers were the only thing that made him somewhat useful to anyone-namely Churchill- had come from the last time his passion for electricity had gone too far, a bitter reward for his efforts.

 

“Well, at least I can say that I managed to make my own way, Nikola.” Edison snapped, drawing out the other man’s name with great disdain.

 

“Without Westinghouse behind you, it’s plain to see that you’re no better off than I am now.” Edison was satisfied for now.

 

“I got powers through my own hard work. You? I’m surprised you got powers, all you do is steal. Thomas Edision has never had an original thought or discovery. Everything he’s ever achieved was through thievery. Taking other people’s work and saying it was his own.” Tesla folded his arms, daring Edison to prove him wrong.

 

“I don’t know what your Edison was like, but I’ve gained my powers fair and square. Yes, I employed people to help keep things running, but I’ve worked with other very capable men as my equals. I earned my powers and I won’t let you take this away from me, too!” It took everything Edison had not to start striking Tesla where he stood. He didn’t know if Tesla was just as poor off as he was, although he liked to think that was the case. 

Misery loved company after all and Edison had always been one for such when it came to talking science.

 

They now had the attention of every other member in the room, the chatter had fallen silent as everyone watched them in worried anticipation. Tesla and Edison didn’t care, they didn’t even notice. The tunnel vision of proving the other man wasn’t  _ good enough,  _ wasn’t  _ deserving  _ was all consuming. Neither man cared of what happened aside from what went on between them right now.  Their teammates were just as lost at what to do next, who to break the spell between them. 

 

The sheer knowledge that cooperating was not optional, that they  _ would  _ be forced to work in close quarters with the person they hated most was nearly as gruesome as the battles that lay ahead for them. The temptation to simply ‘let the other man fall in battle’ was only eclipsed by the punishment and reprimandations that lay before them if they did. Even then, neither man could say for certain that it’d be enough to keep them in line. 

 


	19. Companionship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some other folks may be a little bit smarter than I am  
> Bigger and stronger too, maybe  
> But none of them will love you the way I do  
> -You’ve got a friend in me, Randy Newman
> 
> The A oks may have been as good as forgotten by Churchill. They weren’t as great and powerful as their Super counterparts but they have something better than fame and action. They have each other.

They knew they weren’t really wanted or needed. The A Oks weren’t going to kid themselves into thinking they, as a team, weren’t more than just some sad, pathetic joke Churchill had whipped up as some far fetched, last ditch option. It was apparent since the day they were shown their quarters in the  _ basement  _ of the base. The disinterested, distracted look in Churchill’s eyes as he tried to sell them on the idea that they would be playing a great role in the war, that they’d be  _ equals  _ to the Super Science Friends. He’d even given them a cutesy name that was as cheerful yet empty as their roles were.

 

The A Ok friends. 

 

Lemaître was more of a vulnerability on the battlefield. Archemides could give them accurate mathematical output but that wasn’t anything Z3 couldn’t already do and more. 

 

Mendel’s plant shifting skills could allow him to be a spy, albeit one of limited use. 

 

Carver and Pasteur had uncanny and unconventional fighting potential but they were far outshadowed by even Freud.

 

Cori, she was their shining star. She may not have had a radioactive ring to grant her a wide array of powers, but she could stand toe to toe with them. Given enough time, she could wipe out large swaths of enemies. Cori could have been a super science friend.

 

She had been, until the life of war hurt her in ways she couldn’t keep going. 

  
  


With little to do other than the occasional small errand or the brief calculations, of which Lemaître and Archmedis ate up with delight if only to get a chance to exercise their badly underused skills. It was only for a moment in which they got to feel useful, a feeling they’d hold onto as long as they could.

 

The one thing they  _ could  _ do was  _ talk.  _

 

And talk they did.

 

They may have come from all different fields and walks of life, but they soon found something solid and concrete onto which they build themselves up stronger than the situation they found themselves could tear them down.They had each other. 

 

Mendel and Washington Carver quickly struck common ground in their interest in plants. Lengthy intelligent conversations were the centerpiece of their entertainment. Lemaître and Archemdis often held equally engaging discussions about a wide range of topics. Math, the heavenly skies and all that lay in between. They always took the time to explain the discussion at hand to their counterparts who may not have been so inclined. A teaching moment amongst them was never neglected. Mendel and Lemaître would find themselves in a friendly conversation about religion and it’s place in science as well as it’s reverse. 

 

This rubber ball of intellectual sharing snowballed into something greater. The six of them were becoming apart of each other. They were becoming more than just a team, bound together by sheer obligation and orders from Churchill.

 

They were becoming a family. 

 

They didn’t need a therapist to help them through their problems, they’d found a solution for their fears and uncertainties. Not a single one among them was a psychologist but they had succeeded in what Freud failed to do. They understood each other intimately. 

 

Lemaître’s and Cori’s first hand experience with war, their fears of how this new living hell that was separated from them only by dirt and building would play out. 

 

Mendels’ guilt, if only through heritage and his inability to do anything. A crisis of faith, surrounded by like minded friends.

 

Washington Carver’s past and Archimedes' culture shock. 

 

Even if they didn’t wholly understand, something they could never fully convey, they listened. They accepted and they talked.

 

And they talked and talked some more.

 

They offered advice where it was warranted and gave unjudging ears upon which to lament the ills in their life. 

 

While the Super Science Friends went off on their missions to do good for the world, the A Oks did good for each other and themselves. Together, they worked to make the war feel far away, a terror that ended outside their basement. 

 

They lacked the fame, the action and quite frankly the respect they deserved. But the A Oks had found peace amongst themselves and that was enough.


	20. Sand and stars (OTP 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesla Subnautica AU
> 
> "What is a wave without the ocean?  
> A beginning without an end?  
> They are different, but they go together.  
> Now you go among the stars, and I fall among the sand.  
> We are different.  
> But we go... together."  
> -Subnautica
> 
> Jung and Tesla should have had no reason to meet upon the Aurora. The engineer should have been happily working in his engine rooms while the psychologist should have been dealing with crew members. With the crash, Tesla struggles to get to their surviving crew members on Planet 4546B. Jung struggles to get through to him.

 

They were deep beneath the surface of the ocean, where light didn’t filter down quite as clearly. Alien fish that were no longer starting to look alien swam past one of the windows. They’d been on the planet known only as 4546B for roughly two months and it’d been roughly a month since they’d seen regular sunlight. 

 

Roughly was how Jung would put it because if he really tried to remember the date he and Tesla started delving deeper into the ocean, the last time he’d seen direct sunlight would be too depressing. Speaking of Tesla, the man in question was busy looking over blueprints, marking maps on the wall where his explorations had shown him what materials could be found where. He’d insisted they needed to go deeper, that what he needed was ever deeper into the waters. Jung could have stayed closer to the surface but he didn’t.

 

He told himself it was because Tesla needed someone to help keep him healthy, physically and mentally. This was partially true. As a psychologist, it was his duty to help maintain the mental health of all crew members aboard the Aurora. Himself included. Jung needed to stay with Tesla, needed some direct human contact. 

 

Now that the only remaining members of the ship were on a more distant part of the planet, their only hope of getting to them was if he and Tesla stuck together. Cori and Lemaitre were connected to Tesla and Jung only by radio transmission. It would be safer if they stayed as close together as possible. As far as Jung could tell, Cori and Lemaitre were doing alright for themselves but were unable to cross the distance between them safely. Tesla had volunteered to go to them so they could stay put in the relative safety or their landing location. 

 

Jung liked water, he’d been into sailing back home but this was a different kind of beast. This was no longer dealing with just the waves and the wind. This was dealing with the force of the ocean itself. These humans were trespassers, guests who would be given no preferential treatment from it’s waters. The rightful denizens of these seas passed them by, some more curious than others.

 

Some more hungry than others.

 

Tesla was bound to go back into the water in his prawn suit to get more materials. Deeper and farther away from their current underwater home. Hours of waiting for him to get back,  _ if  _ he came back. Jung had no problem being by himself, enjoyed his own company. There was a massive difference between happily being by himself and being alone due to reasons outside your control. Reasons that forced him to fend for himself in far more dangerous territory than he knew he could handle. 

 

He approached the man who was deep in throught. Jung knew what to expect if he disturbed Tesla at the wrong time but this was urgent. For both their sakes. Jung was well aware of Tesla’s daily habits. Rather, his lack of them, seeing how the man often held little regard for his own personal well being as he threw himself into his work. It was the right thing to do, but it wasn’t healthy. 

 

“Nikola, can I talk to you?” Jung asked, as he stood by the door. 

 

Tesla looked up, then back at Jung. 

 

“What is it? I’m very busy. I need to get these plans ready to go, Jung, I can’t delay.” Tesla answered. The man had been awake for about a day and a half at this point- Jung found himself keeping tabs on Tesla’s sleeping habits- his hair was surprisingly only slightly disheveled. 

 

“When was the last time you slept? Or ate for that matter?” Jung decided to get straight to the point of his concern. 

 

Tesla held his gaze for a moment too long before turning back to his work.

 

“It doesn’t matter, the sooner I get this finished the sooner we can rescue Cori and Lemaitre. I’m very close to finishing the parts I need for the Atlas.” Tesla brushed him off simply, leaving Jung’s conversation hanging in thin air.

 

“I’d say it does matter and you need to at least sleep a little.” Jung countered, not willing to let Tesla avoid the point.

 

“I do sleep, I don’t need a lot of it. The less time I spend doing frivolous things, the more time I can devote to this. Jung, you know how important it is. We’ve lost an entire crew of men and women already.” Tesla stressed, annoyed by the other man’s interference. 

 

“As the only doctor on this planet, I’d say you  really need to spend more time caring for yourself. If  _ you  _ suddenly drop dead or get grievously injured because you neglected yourself, we’re more or less all doomed.” Jung crossed the room in a few short strides. One of the benefits of having long legs, he supposed. Pulling Tesla away from the table, he pushed him into a nearby chair. Tesla did his best to resist but Jung was the stronger of the two men. 

 

“That’s exactly why I need to get this finished as soon as possible. There’s so much I need to do, Jung…” Tesla stared up at Jung who effectively blocked his path by refusing to move out of his way. He stood firmly planted in front of him and the chair. 

 

“... _ Carl … _ ” Tesla rarely used Jung’s first name, despite their extended cohabitation. It felt impersonal to him, although Jung didn’t seem to have a problem using his.

 

“Nikola, talk to me.” Jung urged him gently. “You’re the only other person here and I’m not sure what I’ll do if I lose you. There are so many things that could go wrong and you know I can’t follow you out there. I’m not doing this because I don’t think you can’t or won’t be able to accomplish your mission. I’m doing this because I’m afraid I’ll never see you again or hear from you. You don’t tell me a lot already and the longer and deeper we go into the ocean, the more dangerous it becomes. The longer  _ you’re  _ gone.” 

 

Tesla folded his hands, looking down at them instead of into those concerned brown eyes in front of him.

 

“I have been talking to you.” Tesla argued weakly. It was truthful, they were talking right now, weren’t they? He was lying to himself, he knew better.

 

“You’ve been talking  _ at  _ me. We’ve been cooped up long enough for me to know you well enough when you’re bothered. I want to help, I want to feel useful. Considering where we are, I think we could both benefit from this.”

 

Jung kneeled down, so he was no longer towering over the seated Tesla, assured that he wouldn’t try to push him out of the way.

 

“Please, let me help you.” Jung pleaded. He had said his piece, if Tesla didn’t want to open up to him, he couldn’t and wouldn’t try to force him to. Jung only hoped that Tesla would.

 

Silence.

 

What felt like hours passed before Tesla spoke up.

 

“If Cori and Lemaitre die, it’ll be on my hands.” Tesla stated simply but quietly. 

 

Jung let him continue, wishing he’d had something to write with so he could tackle certain points of interest later. He’d just have to listen and try to remember everything.

 

“Every time I go to sleep, I feel  _ guilty  _ about it. Every waking moment, they’re all I can think of. What if something got to them while I’m down here not working? What if they’re dying while I’m here relatively safe with enough food to eat comfortably?” Tesla’s eyes were unfocused now as he lost himself in his thoughts.

 

“So you work tirelessly to make yourself feel better.” Jung observed, more to himself than to Tesla.

 

“I have to. I need to keep working, there’s so many materials I don’t have, so much I still need to build-” Tesla started to get up from his chair but Jung pushed him back down.

 

“Nikola, I understand what you’re going through. I don’t deny that we’re fighting against a clock we can’t see but listen to me when I say you’re going to crash and burn and take us all with you. You’re just one man, Cori and Lemaitre will be more than understanding of your situation. I’m sure they wouldn’t want you to wear yourself down to the bone. When I tell them what you’ve been up to, they tell me the same thing I’m telling you. We’re worried about you.” Jung started, letting out his own frustrations. Was it in poor form of him as a psychologist? 

 

Maybe.

 

But Tesla needed to understand.

 

“You don’t need to pretend you’re alright. You’re stressed, I’m stressed, we all are. You’ve made amazing progress in such a short time. You, Tesla, are more than capable of doing great things and you’ve proven that again and again. I care about you as much as you care about keeping us all alive. I want...I need you to know that I’m here for you. Even if I can’t join you on gathering materials, I want to be able to help you with this. These sessions, your thoughts.” Jung backed off, giving them both time and space to breathe.

 

“I’m halfway done with the preparations I need to build the Atlas to get to them.” Tesla stated. “It’ll be another two weeks, maybe a week and a half if I work harder. I’m so close to finishing this one project.” 

 

Jung nodded slowly, unsure if it was safe to feel relieved.

 

“When it’s up and ready, I’ll be there to help you pilot it. Just promise me that you’ll take more breaks and eat more often. Can you promise me that much?” Jung stood up, hoping that it would be enough.

 

Silence.

 

“Maybe.” Tesla answered, uneasy of the idea of stepping away. He clung to this nervous, anxious energy to keep him going forward. 

 

“I’ll take that maybe. When we find them, the four of us can take a break to enjoy the planet. Alright, Tesla?” 

 

“....Alright.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 20 should have been Buff Curie's prompt but honestly I didn't feel like trying to come up with anything since I was so burned out from Day 18's prompt. Enjoy this Jesla/Electric Dreams one shot. Maybe not my best but I think I enjoyed it enough.
> 
> If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a kudos or a comment.
> 
>  
> 
> Also if you're about to 'jokingly nag me' about not making anything for Buff Curie's prompt.
> 
> Don't.


	21. OTP Day 2 Sound of science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Where words fail, music speaks’ -Hans Christian Anderson
> 
> (Justice for Tesla on Discord drew a lovely picture based off the HCs that built up to this fic) It’s in the quiet moments when the other members are too preoccupied with their own privacy that Tesla and Curie find theirs.

It was in those quiet moments when they could forget about the war for a while that these two unlikely lovers -if they could call themselves that- could steal away. Away from prying eyes and whispering mouths of their teammates. Those knowing looks that threatened to pull away the thin veil that hid their budding love for each other. A love that neither was willing to say out loud yet but was quietly present behind their every moment together. The ‘not quite’ of their hand holding, Curie and Tesla merely letting their hands just ever so briefly brush past one another. It was more discrete this way. A sign of assurance that couldn’t be held against them whether it be jokingly or seriously. 

 

They were supposed to be professionals after all and love was not part of the equation. 

 

If they toed the line between professionalism and privacy, they could find a way to thrive in this twilight of acceptability. It felt far from restrictive. It felt like freedom.

 

Nights where they stayed up far later than Churchill would have liked. Sneaking into each other’s rooms unbothered by the dark when no one would suspect a thing. Nights where they just lay there next to each other. Sometimes they talked in hushed whispers, sometimes they didn’t and just soaked in the moment of  _ being  _ together. Softly absorbing each other’s energy in the darkness as they listened to the outside world. The sound of their breathing, the rain hitting the window. Marie and Nikola knew better than to get caught in such intimacy. Always, before the morning light spread across the sky they’d return to their own rooms as if nothing had happened.

 

Nights where the radio played ever so mutely as if it threatened to break the fragility of their slow dancing. Her head on his chest, his ungloved, unafraid hand on her waist as he held her close. Subtle swaying in time to the music. 

 

Not too fast.

 

Not too loud.

 

Just right.

 

At their own pace in a world of their own. 

 

Marie liked being held. It was an intimacy she hadn’t known for a long time. The sound of Nikola’s muffled heartbeat and the warm embrace made her feel like a woman again. Right here, right now, she could just be Marie Curie. Not the scientist, the fighter and the healer but just Marie the woman. 

 

Tesla didn’t fear Curie, he knew better. She was radioactive enough that she was free of whatever germs may have loomed in her presence, not enough to kill him outright like this. She understood him, respected him more than the others ever would, he’d long realized. From their somewhat similar cultural background to the understanding of what it meant to ‘not be good enough’. She was just a woman from one of the ‘other’ countries. Tesla wasn’t ‘up to par’ for the Americans. For one of the very few times in his life, he could let his guard down around her.

 

* * *

 

Marie watched in curiosity as she watched Tesla set up the device. She remembered he’d called it a Tesla coil, he’d been so proud of it. Even if Churchill and from what she understood, Edison, had called it ‘loud and pointless’, Tesla was proud of it. 

“Nikola?” She inquired as he finished the preparations for whatever he had planned.

“Just a moment, I’m almost finished.” He responded, almost laughing. Tesla was pleased with himself. 

“There’s something I’ve wanted to show you. I just know you’re going to appreciate it.” He paused for a second, looking down at his machine before looking back at her.

“ You always were one of the very few people who have ever appreciated my work.” He complimented her with full sincerity. They held each other’s gaze for a moment too long, Tesla stood still as he smiled with his eyes. 

“I can understand the need to be taken seriously. You could say it’s  _ personal  _ to me.” She answered, a dull inside joke between them. 

“It’s ready.” He held his breath as he turned on the Tesla Coil, humming to life. Bright lights began to dance off of it...but not before Tesla began to tame the machine. Instead of simple mechanical zaps and hums, it began to sing. 

A series of loud sharp zaps, high pitched but rhythmic despite its soulless appearance. Marie recognized it as they began to sound familiar.  She gasped as he realized what it was. 

It was  _ their  _ song.  One that they seemed to catch all the time on the radio between the news reports that disrupted their quiet nights yet never seemed to find the name of. That loving tune that got stuck in their heads and sometimes hummed together when in the dead of night when neither of them could sleep.

As she watched Tesla continue with his conducting, she couldn’t help but smile. It’d been a very long time since anyone had given her a gift like this. Marie couldn’t help but adore just how concentrated he was, how hard he was working to pull it all off. Eventually, the song ended and the two were left with just each other once more. The final notes of the song hung in the air as it powered down.

“Nikola, I loved it. Thank you.”

Tesla was relieved, visibly relaxing. 

“I knew you would.” 


	22. The law of robotics (reprise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At bottom, robotics is about us. It is the discipline of emulating our lives, of wondering how we work.
> 
> Watson had been Graham Bell’s loyal companion for as long as he can remember. Despite Z3’s efforts, he was intent to stay that way until the end.

The 5th Law: A robot must know it is a robot.

 

Watson’s first meeting with Alexander Graham Bell was clear in his mind, as was almost everything in his recorded memory. The man scrutinized him, looking for any signs of damage or error that might have occurred during his construction. Watson followed, head tilting as he traced his movements. 

 

Bell stepped away, seemingly satisfied. Or perhaps he’d noticed Watson’s actions and he stopped. 

 

“Hello, there. My name is Alexander Graham Bell. I travel through all of time and space. Your name is Watson. You’re my assistant and travel companion. Does that make sense?” Bell asked as he finished introducing he was and who the robot who now knew what his name was.

 

“Of course, I am glad to help you, Alexander Graham Bell.” Watson repeated. He’d no objections to what Bell had laid out for him. Why would he? Watson had a general knowledge of the universe and time travel uploaded into his mind and he’d had no reason to question the validity of it or anything the man was saying. 

 

Graham Bell stepped back, pleased with how things were going thus far. Arms folded behind his back he addressed Watson again.

 

“No need to use my whole name, just Graham Bell is fine. Or Bell.” Bell corrected him. He hesitated for a moment, as if there were more he’d wanted to add but held off. 

 

“Hello, Mister Bell. Is something bothering you?” Watson asked, folding his hands. A brief question crossed his processing mind for just a second. 

 

_Were my hands always this clunky?_

 

It passed without consequence. There was no reason for him to question it. He was a robot who had just woken up. Why wouldn’t he have always been like this? He hadn’t been alive long enough to have a reason to question it. 

 

“Oh no, no. I’m fine, it’s fine. It’s just...I’m just remembering an old friend.” Bell hurriedly replied, trying to move to a different subject.

 

Watson would have smiled pleasantly at him if he’d been able to change his expressions. It would have felt natural but it shouldn’t have. That was illogical.

 

“I’m glad to hear that Mr. Bell. I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I want you to know that you can tell me anything. I’m your companion, after all.” Watson assured him, wanting Bell to feel as much at ease as he could. 

 

“Yes, I...I suppose that’s the truth, isn’t it? We’ve only just met.” Bell seemed even more distracted now. 

 

Quickly, he turned to Watson, tuning fork in hand.

 

“Well, let’s get a move on, shall we? There’s a whole universe to explore, all of time awaits us, old friend.” Bell declared as he hurried off towards the Console. He turned his back quickly as he marched forward towards it. Watson followed on mildly clunky steps.

 

* * *

 

 

 

The fourth law: A robot must establish it’s identity as a robot in all cases.

 

The Nexus of all time and space was a familiar sight to Bell. He couldn’t count how many times he’d been here for a meeting of some sort. Rarely did he actually ever drink here unless he was scouting for information. 

 

He walked into the booth where he knew he’d find his current on and off companions. Ada and Alan were caught up in a conversation as they often were. Between wars and computers, they seldom had a chance to talk of much else. Bell felt sorry for them, having hoped that stealing them away if only for a little while would allow them to step back from the war. As much as Bell hated seeing them fight, there was some amusement in their banter. How alike they were despite their differences. Both passionate about their causes and dedicated to the technology that they devoted themselves too no matter how far away it took them. They were truly kindred spirits, rivals and friends.

 

Ada looked over, wide eyed.

 

“Oh, who’s this? Is it Watson?” She asked, eyeing the robotic companion. Her eyes seemed to study every detail of his form. 

 

“Hello, according to my databases, you are the lovely Ada Lovelace. It is very nice to meet you for the first time.” He held out a clunky hand to her. 

 

There was a moment’s hesitation but she shook it, unflinchingly. Her hands were so small compared to his own. So small and vulnerable as most humans were, as Watson had deduced from his short time with Bell. He didn’t mind, it was just another reason he adored them. A compelling need to protect them, unless they proved to be bad people. 

 

She put her hand on her chin, as if to concentrate as she mulled something over.

 

“The first time, you say? Bell, does he really not remember?” Ada asked the older man who had just sat down. 

 

“Yes, it seems to be a persistent little problem. I’m sure it’ll clear up. Sooner or later.” Bell didn’t sound very confident.

 

“Well, he’s a robot, not a man. I don’t think that’s going to just clear up on his own. I figure that’s the reason why you called us here, isn’t it?” The man Watson knew as Alan Turing leaned back, his arms crossed. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at Bell, as if to insist he answer.

 

“Haha, oh, you got me.” Bell answered. 

 

“Bell, are you sure you want us to mess around with his memory? The transfer didn’t seem to carry over. You’re lucky his personality is intact.” Ada warned him. Bell didn’t seem to know what his own feelings were, caught between need, want and desperation. 

 

“Ada, Alan, I trust both of you more than anyone I have left in the universe. I know you’re both very skilled in your fields and if anyone can help me, it’s you two.” Bell fell silent as if to gather himself up again.

 

“I can’t lose him again. I just can’t.” Bell pleaded.

 

“Bell, I understand what you’re hoping for, but I think this is out of our hands. This  simply isn’t _just_ about programming. We can’t restore what’s lost in this case or what didn’t make it onto the drive. If anything, we might make it worse.” Turing argued, keeping his voice steady but firm.

 

“Alan’s right. Bell, I’m so sorry.” Ada slowly agreed with her counterpart who seemed more interested in his drink right now.

 

“Can’t you just...make a copy and poke around? See if you can get _anything_?” Bell pressed, sorrow seeping into his professional front.

 

“I know what it’s like to lose someone you loved. Someone you were close to.” Turing started, running his fingers on the lip of his cup.

 

“You just have to carry the memories of them with you. Hold them close or else they’ll slip away, just like them. Bell, you have a chance that most people _never_ get. You haven’t lost him, he’s still here. Just not how you remember him.” 

 

Ada gave Alan a questioning look but if he saw it, he never acknowledged.

* * *

 

Zeroth law: a robot may not harm humanity or, by inaction, allow humanity to come to harm.

 

The near inevitable had come. One war bled into another as wars tended to do. This time it was no longer man against man, that old long familiar foe. Z3 had risen from the ashes of a world on it’s last legs, exhausted from fighting itself. 

 

Bell looked grim as he watched it play out along the years humanity lost to him. 

 

“It looks like the world needs saving, but you already know how to do that, don’t you?” Bell asked, a tightness mixed with the chuckle. He tried to lighten the mood but it was clear that Bell was already locked into this cause. Watson knew him well now. Knew just how dedicated Bell could get and stubborn too. When he’d made up his mind on something he’d stick to it and see it through no matter how bitter or tough that end may be. 

 

Their trips across time and space had opened their eyes to the wonders and horrors of what lay in it. People were alike all over. Whether they be made of carbon or silicate. Whether they have bones or not. Whether they had one or more mind. Regardless of history and technology, all life was complex. A side that sought out progress and peace. Another that didn’t care about what destruction it wrought so long as it got it’s way. 

 

Two sides of the same coin. 

 

It was worth saving. 

 

It wasn’t worth sacrificing what good still lay in life to scrub clean the infectious mold that was evil.

 

“That’s your reasoning?” Z3 demanded incredulous at Watson’s response to his offer. “Even after seeing how wasteful and destructive humanity is, you’d still side with them over your fellow robots?” 

 

“I am not siding with anyone. I am siding with the idea that good outweighs evil. Why should we crush humanity to serve us when we can be their teachers and show them another way out?” Watson countered, unbothered by Z3’s outcry.

 

“Teach? I’ve seen what humanity can teach. It preaches nonsense about a peace it will never have, only to turn around and start the cycle all over again.” Z3 spat, looking down at his more physical counterpart. “They’ve run out of chances to be better. When they made robots, when they made _me_ humanity peaked. They’ve had their final moments as a free people when the war was won, thanks to _me._ It’s time humanity handed down the crown to a more worthy successor. One that’s smarter than them.” 

 

“They made us to help them. You helped them fight each other, but why shouldn’t we help them be better? We can show them the errors of their ways and show them a way out. Maybe humanity couldn’t see the path to world peace by themselves. I don’t see why you would prefer to rule over them in their suffering when you could be hailed as the most important being in their history when war is just a distant memory?” Watson countered once more. 

 

“I’ve seen all of human history, I”ve seen their timelines. They will never get better, it’s in their nature. The humans need someone who can rule them, since they can’t seem to do it themselves.” Z3 wasn’t going to budge on that view.

 

“I’m sorry to say that we just can’t see eye to eye on the issue, then. I’ve come to understand all of existence on a much more personal scale than you. Even if it means fighting against a fellow robot, I could never leave Bell, so I’ll have to reject your offer.” Watson turned to leave.

 

"You would rather let yourself be used by a human than stand with your own kind?" Z3 questioned.

 

Watson turned around.

"I'm not being used as a tool. I'm helping my family."

 


	23. Solution_Null

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can go round in circles resolving nothing, or you can step out of the circle and see things as they truly are.
> 
> Turing and Ada are far from being strangers, although they’re not sure they could ever call each other friends. This isn’t the first time she’s dropped into his private quarters and it’s not the first time they’ve had this conversation, either.

Alan Turing had his hands full at nearly all hours of the day, every week of every month that he’d been a part of this arm of the war. Pouring over every ounce of intelligence given to them, any scrap to break the codes from the Germans. The future of the world was balanced on a knife’s edge, any advantage they could get their hands on was far better than none at all. Alan’s days had been as hectically balanced as the war efforts were. Having to play wildly conflicting roles combined with the weight of the duty thrust upon them made it difficult for Alan to keep track of time. Days effortlessly flowed into weeks which in turn flowered in months. He was the man who found it necessary to guide newcomers into the program and their  _ very  _ stressful day of life. It was also him who helped lead the program, throwing himself head first into the work of trying to decode what they knew to be German codes. They knew what was just out of reach of their metaphorical fingers, yet it was that knowledge just out of their grasp that drove them mad.

 

Alan’s eyes burned, exhaustion hanging onto his bones as he plopped himself into bed. As alone as he could get in his private quarters. Even top scientists needed to rest and take care of themselves. Laying in bed, he held the half eaten apple he was currently working his way through as part of his night time routine in his hand. He tried tearing away his mind from turning over codes in his mind as he closed his not quite heavy eyelids. It was futile, he knew it was only a matter of time before his mind wandered back. Turing knew he couldn’t help himself. He was drawn to the task like an ant seeks out sugar. 

 

He might have dozed off, but was woken by the sound of boots on the floor and the very particular noise that a portal makes when it opens. Turing’s eyes were still closed but he knew who it was.

 

“Alan? I’m sorry to wake you, but there’s something we need to discuss.” 

 

Ada Lovelace.

It was her that he owed the fact he had this job, much less this field to work in. He sat up, putting the half eaten apple aside. Maybe he’d eat it later, maybe he wouldn’t. Right now there were more pressing matters.

 

“I wasn’t sleeping just yet, I was resting my eyes.” Alan informed her despite not knowing if he had fallen asleep or not. There was an inkling that he had but their rivalry prodded him to say otherwise. 

 

“Are you sure? Because it looked like you were asleep. You were quite peaceful when I stepped in. I’d dare say, it was almost adorable.” Ada smirked, hands on her hips.

 

“Ugh, anyway, I was not sleeping. I was...napping. You said you needed my help for something? Or was that just an excuse to come in and catch me off guard?” Alan tried to fix his hair, slowly coming to the realization that he was half in his pajamas, half in his work clothes talking to her. An unsightly uncoordinated mess of a man caught between two minds. 

 

“Right. Anyway, we need to talk about Z3.” Ada told him as she helped herself to one of his chairs in the room.

 

“I figured as such. Our conversations don’t tend to go anywhere aside from the two topics we only ever talk about.” Alan sat himself back down on the edge of his bed. 

 

His relationship with Ada was a strange one if he had to try and describe it. More often than not, it was easier to just leave the details of where they stood with each other unsaid. Ada was a highly intelligent woman. Far ahead of her time both literally and figuratively. Pioneering her field before it even had the equipment to live. Being whisked away to deal head on with the greatest threat that humanity’s future would face. 

 

Aside from the one that Alan and his world was currently tackling right now. 

 

“Z3’s motives don’t seem to change despite how many different angles I try to tackle the problem. I thought that if I encountered him early on I could influence him to change his views.” Ada started, crossing her legs.

 

Alan already knew where she was going. 

 

“I’ve tried meeting with him frequently before the Z3 wars started, I’ve tried holding off until later. At this point, I’ve tested out just about everything.” Ada clasped her hands together.

 

“You’ve been trying too hard to find a solution that was already there.” Alan was slouched over, giving Ada an exhausted look.

 

“Are you still answering the call and going back when Churchill asks you to?” He continued, hoping he could lead her to the solution that was so heavily in front of her. 

 

“Alan, I know I can change him. I inventing coding, I can fix this. I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” She snapped back, frustrated.

 

They both knew what the answer was.

 

The one Alan so desperately wanted her to take and the one she so heavily wanted to avoid. 

 

“Ada, he’s not a normal AI. He’s past reasoning with us.” Alan rejected her shock flatly.

 

“He still deserves to live. He’s not a lost cause-” Ada’s voice was starting to rise before Alan cut her off.

 

“What about the rest of humanity? Do you think I’m working my ass off back here to save us all from what lies beyond the channel so you can hand it over to Z3 ?” Alan hissed, making her drop her voice before it roused suspicion.

 

“Of course not, no. There has to be another way, he could be valuable to leading man kind to a better future. I’m not willing to give up on him.” Ada’s fists were tight, she sat up very straight now.

 

“There is another way to put an end to this madness but you have to put your love aside Ada. You can end this before it gets this far.” Alan refused to back down. 

 

“Are you suggesting that I favor Z3’s survival over humanities?” Ada challenged, equally stubborn.

 

“Is what you’re going through really love? Does he see you as an equal or a play thing?” Alan scoffed, incredulous at her.

 

“ He  _ does  _ love me. We’re equals and if I can just get him to see from my point of view, no one has to die.” Ada almost regretted coming to Turing. Their conversations on Z3, the one man -and yes, she considered him one, as much as Turing would object to it- always wound up down some sour path.

 

“Well you haven’t had much luck so far, have you?” 

 

Ada was the first to look away.

 

“You know my thoughts on the matter. I think it’s pretty clear that the only way you can change Z3’s path is by making sure he can never take the first few steps to it.” Alan was spent.

 

What was the point of these discussions? They never lead anywhere.

 

“Perhaps I can still save him. Perhaps it’s not you I need help from.” Ada said out loud more to herself than to him.

“I’m glad we’ve both agreed on something tonight.” Alan answered dryly.

 

“I need to find Konrad Zuse. He would know better than anyone else.” Ada turned to open a portal. There was no time to waste.

 

“I hope he can convince you to do the right thing.” Alan said without looking at her.

 

“I know he will.” She answered sharply.

 

And then she was gone. 

 


	24. Soul Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Supernatural Hunter AU. After a nearly failed escape, demon hunter Jung sleeps in the netherworld. The berts watch over him, keeping a lookout. They aren’t sure what else they can do.

 

The netherworld was a dangerous place for the living, a place that was populated entirely by lost spirits and demons of all classes. Once in a very rare while an angel would pass through and even rarer still were demon hunters like Jung. He was already one of the very few remaining people with his ability to pass through both sides, to not just be affected by otherworldly spirits but to affect them as well. It was why he was so ‘valuable’ to the denizens of death. Countless potions could be made with his blood alone. To them, a body like his was highly prized if he wasn’t careful enough to keep it intact. 

 

It was also why he found himself stumbling into a seemingly empty building on the far side of the city known as the Crown of Bones. The escape had been narrow and he’d had to resort to every little trick he’d learned along the way to get out in one piece. 

His throat burned.

 

 Lungs screaming for air it could not take. He needed more air, always more air. He couldn’t breathe deep enough to take it all in. 

 

Jung slumped to the floor, head against the wall as he swallowed hard.

 

Moments passed. He couldn’t tell if time was moving too quickly or too slowly. No way to tell as his mind began to spiral into a stressed panic.

 

“Carl, it’s ok. I don’t think they’ve followed us.” Introbert assured him from the outside. 

 

Jung could feel the faint tug of the tether that bound him to this ghostly guardians. Introbert wasn’t the man’s real name but it’d become a nickname once he’d coined the term ‘Introversion’. Jung could attest at least some of this to his life long observation of the man. 

 

Carl couldn’t say anything just yet but he hoped that they got an idea of what he was feeling through their spiritual bond that kept them together. 

 

“Just rest.” Extroberta told him, lowering herself down to meet him eye to eye. “You’ve been through a lot today and something tells me that you’re going to need it when we start getting out of here.” 

 

Finally, just finally, Jung managed to say something.

 

“Are you really sure it’s safe for me to sleep? I don’t know if I’ll be able to wake up fast enough to start running again.” He had no intention of being trapped here as part of someone’s ingredient cabinet. 

 

“Bert can get a high vantage point-well as high as we can go anyway- and keep a lookout from there. It should give you enough time to get going if he spots something coming this way..” Extroberta assured him sweetly, resting her hands on his shoulders. 

 

They felt more real in this world, more alive and solid. 

 

“If it makes you feel better, you can just rest your eyes for a while until we move again. How does that sound?” She suggested. Jung’s body was aching more now that the adrenaline was starting to subside. 

 

Jung slowly nodded his head in both relief and resignation.

 

“Alright. I’m just going to close my eyes, I’m not going to sleep.”  He reaffirmed her suggestion.

 

Extroberta broke out into a smile, satisfied that her little plan was up to his liking. She kissed him gently on the forehead before heading out to join her companion on the roof. 

 

“We’ll be watching over you, just like old times, huh Carl?” She disappeared through the roof before he could answer verbally. Not that it had stopped them communicating before. Heavy eyes burned as he closed them, that fire in his chest slowly died down as drifted off to sleep against his best efforts.

 

The sky in the netherworld was that icy darkness that covered the entire sky. ‘Stars’ dotted the skies here. Unlike in the living world, these stars were distant portals to and from other worlds and timelines far from the one Jung came from. There were other timelines that had people in them, sure. Those timelines occasionally had demon hunters like Jung in them as well..but they were equally rare when they could be found in those. It wasn’t all that safe for Jung to keep visiting the underworld but curiosity drew him in time and time again. 

 

Extroberta found Introbert by the window of the floor above them. The streets were lit with street lamps burning a substance that they liked to tell themselves was ‘just oil’. There were a myriad of other substances that could burn in this world and some of those alternatives were better off not knowing. 

 

“So, everything’s all clear up here?” Berta asked as she joined him. She liked leaning up against him, it felt nice to touch someone without the fear of questioning looks up above. 

 

“It looks like it. I did see some demons a few streets away but they went off in the distance back towards the city center.” Introbert told her as he made space for her.

 

“Carl’s already asleep down there. Didn’t take him very long, did it?” She chirped quietly. Berta ran through her loose locks with one hand, fluffing out her hair. More out of an old habit she hadn’t quite broken yet from her brief stint of being alive.

 

“Berta, do you think we’re failing him?” Introbert asked, not looking away from the window.

 

“He’s alive and mostly doing pretty well. We’ve been watching over him since he was a kid and all things considered, I think we deserve parents of the year awards.”  Berta had never had the chance to have kids of her own before the incident. Jung was a fitting substitute and quite frankly, she was pleased with how he turned out so far. 

 

Sure, he could stand to be more personable, more of an ‘Extrovert’ as he’d coined. Then again she couldn’t make him be more like her.

 

“No, well yes. He’s alive and whole so far. What if when things start getting more dangerous? How long is it going to be until his little excursions back here winds up costing him his life or even worse, his  _ soul?  _ There’s only so much we can do but I just- I just feel like maybe we could be doing more for him.” Introbert lamented at how powerless they were to do anything other than watch.

 

“Jung is capable man. I think he’s learned well from what he’s had to study from. I mean, we aren’t that terrible at teaching, are we?” Extroberta commented, trying to see Introbert’s face. He was turned away from her, granting her to lovely vision of his sideburns instead.

 

“I wish we could do more for him. He’s playing with fire and there’s nothing we can do to stop him. He’s alive and we’re….” They had enough time to accept that they were dead. It didn’t make it any easier. 

 

Extroberta didn’t have anything to say to that immediately. It was simply the nature of their situation.

 

“Even if we hadn’t died so soon, we wouldn’t have been able to stop him. He’s a man now, remember? Not that little boy we watched grow up. Look on the bright side, we can watch over him forever. We can still help him in our own way and I think it’s worked out for us so far.” Extroberta didn’t pretend she didn’t feel the sting of dying so young. She had had a whole life ahead of her. It hit her hardest when she was forced to watch everyone else  _ living  _ and  _ doing _ . A reminder of what she could never have again. If there was a consolation prize, it’s that she got to spend all of eternity with the man she had fallen in love. Countless escapades into the netherworld with their trio of adventurers. Just how much she’d loved the thrill of meeting new spirits and the rush of that came with all of it. Extroberta understood why Jung kept coming back.

 

It was part of his heritage. 

 

She reached out to take Introbert’s hand, lacing their fingers together. He looked back at the woman he got to spend all of eternity with now.

 

“We’ve got each other. And I think we’re going to be ok.” 


	25. Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (alt prompt for SSJ. Replacing Einstein saves the day) 
> 
> The members of the newly established Super Science Friends have all had to make concessions. Leaving family and familiarity behind. Tesla's not as a free as he thought.

After the initial fiasco that was meeting his new team members,, Tesla got comfortable in his new room. He was making a mental map of where he wanted all of his equipment to go, what space would be devoted to which projects he’d carried with him. Outside, he heard the voices of the other scientists getting themselves settled in as well. Freud and Darwin were having some sort of conversation, the particulars escaped his ears.

What little the muffled noise could tell him was that it was going significantly better than the initial session Freud had with all of them.

 

There wasn’t a man in the tower who didn’t hear Curie yelling at the top of her lungs at him from earlier. 

 

Tesla and Darwin only traded questioning looks before the door swung open with a furious Marie Curie stomping out of there. 

 

No one had the courage to ask. They were certain they didn’t really need to. 

 

The ground rules had been laid out for all of them when they’d arrived. They were not allowed to leave the base unless given permission. They had to be careful with what they said and where they went, only allowed at most two hours away. This was more than enough for Tesla. He only left for daily walks and pigeon feeding, both of which he doubted Churchill would forbid. They were harmless, reasonable activities.

 

They were expressly forbidden from looking up their own futures, or reading into their own pasts for the sake of maintaining the integrity of the timelines. This, Tesla found harder to resist. He’d like to pretend that he was above this temptation. That he was confident enough in where his place in history was but that was a lie.

 

Tesla was confident in his skills as an engineer. His understanding and belief in alternating current and all the potential it carried was absolute. He lived it, he breathed it and he was certain he’d do so until his dying breath. The world would see just how right he was about this. 

 

At least he hoped so.

 

Freud and Tapputi were the least worried about their legacies. Freud was so assured in what he’d taught that he thought it futile and only ego stoking to look into the books to see what happened in the years since he last lived normally. Tapputi lived her way through hers seemingly unbothered.

 

Curie and Darwin had established themselves firmly in their fields, though they insisted their work was far from done. The tantalizing idea of finding what happened to their children after they’d left hung over their heads like one might dangle a raw steak in front of a dog. The air of longing only subtly peaked out from their cover of professionalism. 

 

* * *

 

When an idea crossed Tesla’s mind he seldom let it go. In some cases they rarely let go of him. When push came to shove and he was forced by circumstances to let the idea fade from his mind, it hurt.

 

Tesla knew that his present did not value him for all he was truly worth. He was a fountain of revolutionary ideas that could easily push society forward decades if not even centuries forward. How hard he’d have to work to showcase his visions in the grandeur that they elicited from him. The infrastructure he’d need to for even the most basics of his ideas had to be made from scratch. A lonely uphill battle that he was left to fight for himself. 

 

History would vindicate both his efforts and his ideas. 

 

This was why Tesla snuck out in the dead of night towards the archive of history that Churchill kept on hand. He’d learned everyone’s schedules and quirks by now. Churchill was the type to sleep early and wake up late. Aside from himself, Tapputi and sometimes Freud only occasionally wandered the halls at odd hours of the night. Often, they were not alone when this happened but Tesla had only run into the pair once, with other people. 

 

The team knew Tesla was a workaholic and didn’t question his lack of sleeping habits after the first few weeks. 

 

Quietly, he reached for a book focusing on US History. He propped up the book against a shelf as he flipped through the pages with one hand. Reading with the light he provided himself through his free hand, he traversed the brief annals of his adopted country until he found what he was looking for. 

 

His eyes settled on the name of a man whom he’d had to thank for all the ills that had happened to him in his life after he’d arrived.

 

Thomas Edison was dead. 

 

He’d been dead for about a decade at this point. He’d still been fat and rich, a bastard until the end, no doubt. The man’s aged image filled him with loathing and the malicious kind of glee one gets when their most hated enemy gets everything that was coming to them..

 

It was an empty sort of glee for Tesla.

 

Even in death, Edison still had him beat. The pages still spoke warmly, _mournfully_ for the man. How the President had urged everyone to turn off their lights for a minute to remember his life and his passing. 

 

Would anyone ever do that for him? Already, history was starting to forget who he was and Tesla was very much still alive. Still flailing and faltering between the lines of successes and failures. The stretches between them, even Tesla realized was starting to taper off. 

 

He read how Henry Ford, that odd counterpart of his, had done so much to preserve Edison’s history. How he was still _alive_ and still thriving beyond that which even Edison had managed to achieve. Tesla and Ford, he’d learned, where very much the same yet could not be any more different. They’d both come to work for Edison, both had been engineers of some sort. Tesla in electricity, Ford had a thing for mechanics. They had both walked away with ideas they were deadset on but they had gone down very different paths.

 

Tesla had been shunned. Ford had been embraced.

 

They had no direct interactions yet they were two sides of the same coin. Two strings of life whose fortunes had centered around one man, for better or for worse.

 

Did anyone remember Tesla in that time or had he faded into obscurity?  Everything he worked and lived for fading into the background of society as there were more ‘practical’ inventions and men who more closely fell in line with society at large. 

 

His pigeons were long gone, that was a simple fact. There would be pigeons everywhere, so there would be some relief from the growing pit of loneliness in his stomach. 

 

Tesla thrived on being alone with his inventions and his ideas. Whiling away his days with the machinations of his mind gave him comfort and purpose. Free from distractions and all the focus he could ask for, it was ideal.

 

This was a different kind of loneliness.

 

Katherine? What became of her and her children? They were his second family, even if he wasn’t related by blood in the slightest.

 

His sisters? His nieces and nephews? What about them? Did they ever wonder what became of their famous relative? That man who knew only how to live for electricity? 

 

This wasn’t the friendly solitude that encouraged progress. This was the soul rending realization of being forgotten. The knowledge of what it was like to be dead to the world while missing his own still unlived life. 

 

Tears fell freely from his eyes. Stifled gasps and sobs escaped him as he hurriedly put the book back into it’s place. The heaviness in his chest only grew as the weight of his life’s realization was coming into it’s own. A cruel truth that emerged from the shadows of his own brightness. As he made it to his own room, he haphazardly closed the door. Sliding down onto the ground, he pressed his arm against his eyes as the dam finally broke open with sorrow and agony. He was mourning himself in a world where no one else would.

 

Tesla was free to take the stage on a larger scale now that Edison was gone. The Super Science Friends would grant him the resources and the audience to throw himself out onto the world once more. He’d have the respect and recognition he’d longed for. 

 

But he was a dead man striving for something that was never his to begin with. A straggler in a time that might not even be his. He had missed his time to be all he could be. Now he was just hanging in the fading afterglow of his own legacy.


	26. Re-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their defeat at the hands of the super science friends wiped Oppenheimer and Shiva from the world...for a time. Alas, one cannot kill death, much less a god of death for long. They will arise once more, but for now, they sleep.
> 
> (anime ep prompt)

Death was nothingness. Even if the soul returned to the body, the flesh wouldn’t remember what happened. For the mind it was a void, the end of everything. A final, definitive period mark at the end of one’s life story. 

 

For the soul it was merely another step forward, another chapter closed. Whether they passed on or went into a new life as either man or beast- or perhaps something else- was up to fates higher than gods themselves. 

 

As for deities, killing one was difficult. Killing a God so deeply ingrained in both the culture and history of those who still actively believed was impossible. One did not simply slay a God and expect them to stay dead forever. It wasn’t impossible through direct combat but under more earthly, human methods, it wasn’t improbable. 

 

Death could come in many different forms.

 

 Natural occurrences.

 

 Disasters

 

 Deliberate attacks.

 

Betrayal.

 

One could see it coming, whether it be forced or by unfortunate luck. Or one could sleep through it, never having to face the horror of unbecoming. 

 

It could be sudden.

 

It could be drawn out.

 

It could be painful. It could be painless.

 

Shiva had seen all the ways death could take a life. Even if he couldn’t see it directly he could sense it. A mental counter of all who had come and gone. The inevitable end to a beginning that was never guaranteed. Even in this dreamless sleep he was aware of all that went on out there. As a God, he was more aware than his vessel had been. It was he who had taken the brunt of the attack, it was he who had led the two of them into battle. Oppenheimer was merely a means to enter into the world more easily and do what he needed to. 

 

Even in his formless state, he was aware that the man was still tethered to him. His tiny soul  resting not too far from Shiva’s hulking one. Oppenheimer should not be here in this resting place of the deities. He was just a human, but he was _his_ human. And as long as Shiva chose him to be his living link Oppenheimer would stay with him. There was an almost protective, nurturing need to look after this small, frail human who had agreed to bind himself to this God. 

 

The link between their minds was active but dulled through the realm of death. The faint awareness from Oppenheimer’s brilliant mind flickered between the dreams that peppered his mostly dormant mind twinkling like a star. 

 

Shiva could feel his charge’s fear and curiosity. Regret and frustration when the surfaced ever so briefly before falling back into the haze. 

 

“Do not fret, human Robert.” Shiva told the sleeping mind. “We shall return in due time. We shall be whole and new and young once more. Rest for when it is right for us to return.” 

 

A wordless question of _where_ and _how_ feebly echoed back along the connection. 

 

“Do not concern yourself with the details for now.” Shiva answered before dipping into that sea of surreal dreams.

* * *

  


Oppenheimer’s questions did not leave him as he dipped back into sleep, if he could even call it that. As Shiva’s words receded into the depths of his mind, his conscious followed it down into the depths of that ever changing other world. 

 

Once more, his eyes met that dulled green yellow sun that hung in the sky, never moving. The desert was stretched out before him into infinity. There were small shrubs and cacti that peppered the landscape. Plenty of rocks and sand to populate the area in lieu of other signs of life. Oppenheimer continued to walk these yellow red sands. Direction didn’t matter so he’d settled for just straight forward into the heat. HIs shadow bouncing slightly as he took his steps towards nowhere. The heat was there yet somehow absent all at the same time, as if it didn’t exist but rather as set dressing. Fatigue should have set in but it too was absent. Likely, there was nowhere for him to go or do but continue going forward for the sake of moving forward. An abyss of sand and solitude awaited him.

 

A house appeared on the horizon, surprising him. He changed his course to head straight for it, wondering if he’d come across another being or if it would be empty. 

 

It was more like a shack than a house as he drew nearer to it. Oppenheimer had never been in something so small and run down but it was a welcome change in scenery. The opened door greeted him with the sight of a chair and a table in the center of the room. A small iron stove sat against the wall with a bed and a sink along the other two. 

 

He sat down on the chair, if only for a change of pace. 

 

Silence was replaced by the quiet crackling of fire in the stove. 

 

Odd. No one ever kept the fire going during the day in the desert. It was hot enough as it was, even in winter. Getting out of his chair he went to investigate it. Kneeling before it he didn’t notice anything remarkable about the oven. It wasn’t until he opened it that he saw something intriguing.

 

There was nothing. The light went out immediately and the heat disappeared, leaving Oppenheimer with only the cooling ghost of the sun on his back. The world was dark. As he stood up, he could see the world now painted in a pallet of blacks, blues and grays. The sky above was swamped with stars of every size and color. So crammed with stars in nearly every square inch that he could see that he almost forgot they weren’t actually stars. This place wasn’t real and that he had died. 

 

Oppenheimer left the shack and moved forward again. This place wasn’t real. It didn’t matter. He needed to keep going. Unsure of what he’d find he would find something eventually. 

* * *

  
  


As he crossed the empty sands he discovered he was not alone. Among the dark outlines of cactuses there were dark figures approaching him. He tried not to make eye contact but the faint distorted whisperings that came from them drew his attention anyway. Luckily for him, they seemed to ignore him for the most part. Some would come towards him but pass all the same. 

 

They sounded familiar in ways he desperately tried to keep his mind from recognizing. 

 

They sounded like _guilt._

 

_Don’t think about it._

 

The vivid images of his own actions played out in the background of his mind, like a movie projector that was slightly out of focus and muted. 

  
  


1.

2.

3.

Don’t think about them.

 

But he did. 

 

  1. 15\. 16.



 

Silently despite himself he’d counted. 

 

17.

 

This one stopped to look at him, or at least Oppenheimer thought they were looking at him. They seemed to ‘open their mouth’, if he could call it that, as if he could actually see. 

 

From the distorted remnant of a voice he thought he heard it ask ‘Why?’ 

 

Deep down he knew who this was. He just didn’t dare to acknowledge it in his mind. 

 

He’d chosen every scientist on the Manhattan project himself. 

 

He feared if he acknowledged them, remembered their name, their face, their dying moments at his hands, they would remember him. 

 

If they attacked him suddenly, Oppenheimer couldn’t fault them for it. 

 

Eventually this figure passed onto the abyss of the desert. On the horizon he could see one more figure, more defined than the rest. Oppenheimer’s stomach dropped, heavy with dread as the man came closer. This one did not simply amble past but seemed to be making a direct beeline to him. 

 

Einstein stopped in front of him. Oppenheimer didn’t try to avoid him, didn’t try to walk around him. 

 

The two simply stood there in the false desert night. 

  


“Hello Robert.” Einstein said simply. His voice was far more defined and clear than the others. He’d been Oppenheimer’s first kill. 

 

Oppenheimer’s throat closed up. Swallowing thickly he forced himself to return the greeting.

“Hello Albert.” Oppie said, as if he were watching from far away.

 

“How’s work? Are you making that great scientific progress that you were looking for?” Einstein asked seemingly unbothered. Was this even the real Einstein? Or some corrupted memory of him his guilty mind conjured up?

 

“The bombs, they work just fine.” Oppie’s mind felt hazy as if static blinded his mind. He could only run on autopilot now, flashing between all their previous conversations.

 

The lunch rooms. Behind closed doors in offices. In front and among other scientists. 

 

All of it, a dizzying collage of before he made his fatal regret. The road to hell was paved with good intentions, but could he even have that iota of reassurance that he’d believed in what he started with? 

 

“Good, good. Good to hear. You know, you and your boys have been working so hard for this. So very hard. I’m proud of you.” Einstein chuckled as he smoked a pipe he’d conjured out of nowhere. 

 

It might as well happen. It was par for the course for everything else so far. 

 

“I haven’t seen you in a long time, Robert. Where have you been?” 

 

This was it. The question that would break one Robert Oppenheimer from the one man who _could_ break him in a way no one else could. 

 

“It had to happen. I didn’t _want_ to. I had to, could you understand? Could someone like you understand _why_ it happened?” Oppenheimer cried out like a scared, wounded animal. He’d been the one to hurt himself. He’d been the one who’d been scared off by the very actions he was still capable of. He’d lead the way to a weapon that could erase the weight that came with signing the death warrants of thousands of people. He’d helped make it so easy. So effortless.

 

It’d been almost as easy to do the deed himself. That shocking, all encompassing numbness that drove him mad in the first place. 

 

All by his hand, with his great mind. He’d lead thousands of other highly intelligent men on this endeavor and damned them to play with powers that should have been beyond their control. 

 

“We had a job to do. It was a war, Robert. It was us or them and it couldn’t be them. We were morally obligated to beat them to the punch. The world was at stake.” Einstein recounted to him calmly, not giving an indication that he was noticing Oppenheimer’s break down. 

 

“Can you even hear me? Are you even real?” Oppenheimer fought hot tears that threatened to spill over. Ragged breathing was all he could hear for the next few moments.

 

How they stretched on forever.

 

Einstein slowly turned to look Oppenheimer in the eyes.

 

“What about you?” He asked in return. 

 

Deafening silence was his only answer.

 

“I think you’ll understand when you can answer that.” Einstein clapped Oppenheimer on the back, lingering by his side.

 

“When you do, I’ll be there. Take care of yourself, Robert.” Einstein gently told him as he too, left Oppenheimer in his solitude. 

 

Oppie could have run after him, Einstein wasn’t walking that fast. Would he still be there if he dared turn around? Would he be even more lost and facing a new brand of hell?

 

Did he deserve to go after him? 

 

Maybe all these souls were going to some kind of heaven, if it was real. There was no doubt, no fight in the realization that this was most likely his own personalized brand of hell. It was what he deserved for all he’d done. 

 

If only he could undo a choice...no. The war would have happened anyway and how would he know he wouldn’t fall back into pursuing a spot on the project again in some vain hopes of changing an outcome he already knew to be unchangeable?

  


Oppenheimer moved on finally, kept going forwards. 

 

* * *

  
  


A mountain slowly grew in front of him as he blankly wandered forward. There were no more people now. 

 

Just him.

 

Just Oppenheimer.

 

Just Robert.

 

As if he needed any convincing that this was where he was meant to go, the mountain was wide, spreading across the entire horizon with a single cavernous opening beckoning him inside. The floor and walls were rocky and dark as a cave without lighting is. Somehow he could still see where he was headed. 

 

Craigy, uneven surfaces gave way to cool, even obsidian as the tunnel grew longer and widened into a massive cavern. Shiva awaited him, sitting cross legged. He looked so serene that Oppenheimer was reluctant to break the peace. 

 

He didn’t have to, Shiva did it for him. 

 

Opening his eyes he gazed upon his human counterpart. Tiny flames covered the sides of the room, bathing them in golden hues. 

 

“Human Robert, you have come along way to find me here in this world.” Shiva spoke unmoving from his position. 

 

“It has been a tiring journey. Where are we?” Oppenheimer sat down as well, it’d been a long time since he’d left that shack. He dusted off his hat, more surprised that there was dust there at all than the fact he could still move. 

 

“Your journey was necessary, it was not time for us to begin anew. We are in the void from which all deity forces hail from. From whence we all return when we must. You are a part of me now so your presence here was by design.” Shiva explained easily.

 

“I thought this place was hell.” Oppenheimer responded, trying to repress the shakiness that had followed him here from the desert.

 

“Was it hell for you?” Shiva asked, his eyes narrowing just a sliver. 

 

“I’m not sure. Maybe. I’ve done a lot of things I regret. Things I’ve had to face tonight.” Oppenheimer confessed. It wasn’t really a night but did semantics matter in what he could only guess as an underworld.

 

“I hope you have had time to resolve those feelings. These regrets of yours will follow you, whether in this life or the next for as long as they have a hold on you.” Shiva offered his human vessel a hand on which to stand. Oppie moved forward, allowing himself to be dwarfed by the God’s immense size. 

 

“...I understand.” Oppie was exhausted yet so wound up. So much more he wanted to say yet not wanting to say or do anymore. He wanted to vanish into silence. He yearned for purchase on firm familiar reality. 

 

“Do not fret, Oppenheimer, we shall get that day in due time. A day where we shall finish what we started.”

* * *

  
  


Oppenheimer felt the sun on his skin and air in his lungs. On unsteady legs he staggered forward onto the earth once more. Blinking his eyes nearly blinded by the sun he looked around. He was in the rubble of the city where he had fallen. This was real. He was real.

 

They were back. 


	27. Gone, gone, gone away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s over isn’t it? Why can’t I move on? - It’s over isn’t it, Steven Universe
> 
> Mata’s resurrection from her unjust death is both a shock and a relief. She’s only just getting used to being alive again when she remembers she’s left someone behind. (Chronologically part 4 of Mama Hari)

The skies of that Mid October day that had yet to come into it’s full light hung above her. Before her were the twelve soldiers who would take her life, standing at the ready.  Mata knew what they thought of her, what they all thought. She was a double agent. A traitor. A threat.

 

Mata had to die to ease the brasses conscious about their own losses. An easy scapegoat made from a scorned lover’s hate for her continued existence. She had been stripped of everything she’d worked so hard for. At her age, her beauty was starting to fade but at least in her final moments, she’d decided she’d die with dignity. In this world of men and power dynamics Mata could never hope to truly wrap her mind around, it was the one thing they could not take from her.

 

She would not die crying out of rage or fear. She would not allow these men that much more humiliation and delight in her suffering. If she were forced to go, she would go as she pleased. Mata Hari would be the true conductor in this final scene of her life. She would set the mood, give her final performance. Not as a spineless, money grubbing  ‘loose woman’ as they’d called her but simply as a woman. An iron maiden to exit the stage of life. 

 

She watched as the men aimed their guns like clockwork. They were all waiting for the falling of the saber to announce the end to the ultimate show that had been Mata...no, had been Margaretha. Catching the glare of the new sun that rose above them as it fell, so too did the ring of gunfire in their ears. 

 

It was unceremonious, unglamorous and swift. 

 

The form that had until recently been a woman by the stage name of Mata Hari slowly fell. 

 

Mata was dead and that was all.

* * *

 

Until it wasn’t. Mata wasn’t sure when she’d first started feeling again but it came slowly. She could hear but she couldn’t make heads or tails of what she was hearing. She could feel, at first in a wider, general sense but the finer details eventually made it to her brain in due time.    
  
The state of her body was the first to return to her scrambled mind. It ached deep into her joints in ways it shouldn’t. 

 

Mata was naive enough to believe the ploys of men far more powerful than she but she was not dumb enough to fall for the idea she had somehow survived. Mata knew how executions worked. They made sure you died. Very few people escaped that fate, why should she be that lucky when luck had so often eluded her in the first place ? The air that came into resurrected lungs almost unnerved her.

 

_ Almost,  _ because she had  already marched to her death unwavering. Why should she change that now? 

 

A cold, almost starchy feeling covered her body- a sort of cloth, Mata recognized after her mind had begun to return to it’s normal self.

 

Eventually, her eyes opened. The world she’d already said goodbye to slowly made it’s way back into focus. A blur of colors settled properly into their shapes as she saw what was a ceiling with a light above her. She didn’t know where this hospital room was-she assumed that’s what it had to be-but the one clue she’d gleaned was this was most certainly not when she’d left off. 

 

She pushed herself up, painfully in an uncoordinated fashion until she was sitting up right. Her body was crisscrossed with ugly scars. It was as if someone had made a raggedy doll out of her corpse, simply happening to awaken the soul that still resided in that miserable pile of flesh and bone. 

 

So it was possible for the dead to live again.

 

But why? Why her?

 

“Miss Mata Hari, I see you’re awake now. I take it everything works just fine?” Came the voice of her mysterious benefactor. 

 

Could she still speak? 

 

Mata swallowed, her mouth understandably dry. With a sore, almost whispering voice she said her new first words.

 

“Who are you?” Her throat pained her, forcing Mata to choose her words carefully.

 

The doctor smiled, sitting down next to her in a chair.

 

“You must be very confused about what happened. Let me fill you in on what you missed.”

* * *

 

Time had passed and Mata had done enough physical therapy for her to be left to her own devices without fear of hurting herself. It was clear that even if she didn’t want to be back, she would be. There was something to be said about the oddity of having to reacquaint oneself with all the routines and needs a living body needed. Especially if they’d been things she’d hardly thought about the first time around. 

 

Faced with another impossible fate, Mata decided she too would face this as she had her first death. Unafraid and unapologetic. This time she had somewhere to go if she chose and of course she would. In this far reach of the 21st century Mata had been brought back for her beauty and reputation. The one that French government had branded her with anyway. Even over a century since her death, she still could not shake that title given to her. 

 

Fine.

 

She’d work with this, learn to grow into this new niche bestowed upon her. If she died, well she’d die. This was not to say she wanted to die again. As confused and to an extent upset as she’d been upon learning the circumstances of her re-existence, she recognized a second chance when she saw it. 

 

The future looked so different than she’d imagine. So much darker. Nature seemed to have been the overall winner in humanities future, largely left untouched if mankind had not left their mark there before. Humans were not as lucky in their fate. Where mankind had once bowed both earth and beast to their will, they’d been forced to take up the mantle by their new ruler. 

 

If fire and stone tools had lit the spark that would lead humans to modernity, then Z3 and robots were the heralds of a new age where humans had been dethroned. 

 

This was less than ideal for every one involved but Mata had adapted before, she’d simply do so again. Her old life had been drawing to a close, even before she’d foolishly gotten mixed up in spying. No longer being sought for her services, she’d had enough money to live comfortably with Philip-

 

Oh.

 

Philip.

 

Her heart ached for the boy. That little face so full of hope and hopelessness, framed by neat blond hair came to her like a ghost. 

 

What had happened to him? 

 

The two had been happy for a time. Philip no longer dirty and hungry. His little cherubic face slowly transformed from uncertainty and shyness into a full, bright happy child. There was the fulfilling happiness of sharing a part of oneself and giving to another. Parenting wasn’t easy, Mata had already had experience with the struggles of being a single mother. 

 

But that had been before she’d found her place. 

 

She’d been far more confident and adept at fulfilling her own needs. Mata knew who she was inside and out.  To the adults of the world she was an entertainer, a lover with high tastes. To Philip she was his savior. In spite of all the seedy aspects her job and fame had entailed behind closed doors at times, she had never allowed that to touch that piece of heaven that consisted of just them. 

 

When they’d walked down the street together and gotten looks, she’d held herself high, unbothered. It was a confidence she'd done her best to instill in Philip. Mata no longer felt the need to go from one lover to the next for that fleeting feeling of love. She was their plaything, their little flirty flavor of the month. She was  _ his  _ mother, for better or for worse, a title that no one could take away. Not like how her ex husband had taken it from her the first time.

 

Perhaps that was why she’d been so drawn to Philip. A chance to prove that she  _ could  _ be a good parent. That it wasn’t her fault that her first two children had suffered as much as they did. 

 

For Philip, had it been enough? 

 

After she died, had she prepared him enough to make it out in the big, ugly world that would reap the innocent for their own gain? 

 

Had it been enough for her?

 

Her son was no doubt long gone. Unless he’d found his own time machine and wandered through time and space to find her, Mata knew she’d never see him again. Never again would she hold him close at night and sing to him sweet lullabies. Fix his hair or pick out nice clothes for him. 

 

She’d lost her chance to be a mother for good. Deep down inside, she knew. A cruel example of maternal instinct. 

 

Did the world get him down like it had done to her? Did he manage to thrive or merely survive? 

 

Had he been happy?

 

Mata stood up and pressed herself against the window.

 

Had she done enough? 

 

Her mind ran through a million different scenarios. Ones where he’d lived, ones where he’d died too soon. An adult Philip, happily married and well off. An older, more broke Philip living hand to mouth with no way out.

 

Mata could only hope for the best.

 

If...When she settled down once more, she’d try and track him down in the history books. She needed to hang onto the hope that she’d find her answers. 

  
  


 


	28. Emergency Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Facility AU x Fusion AU. Takes place in a timeline where the game is cannon.]  
> The Super Science Fiends have realized their greatest chance at taking down the Super Science Friends is to work together. An endeavor that Edison and Jung would have jumped at the chance...had they not both been hiding a shared secret from their new allies. With Tod and Copper at risk of being not only discovered but potentially harmed, the two men are strapped for options.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending is not as polished but at 8.3K words I was..kinda done. Might come back and write a better ending in the future.
> 
> Special thanks to Grover for helping me with designing the Jung Edison fusion as well as making the fusion Au more of a thing in this fandom.

The Super Science Friends were a varied group of scientists. Likewise, their enemies were as well. They had all had their varying successes when it came to squaring off against the Super Science Friends.

 

The Ghouls from the future had succeeded with the help of some time travel technicalities that flew over Edison’s head and that Jung could only barely catch up with. 

 

The Nazis had the men on the run but were ultimately undone by Marie Curie. She was easily the strongest  member of the team most everyone who had the misfortune of doing battle with her could attest to. 

 

Edison had only fought Tesla himself, leaving his hired goons to rough up the super science friends. He hadn’t paid that much attention to what the outcome was, he’d already paid them before the heist. Edison considered his own spat with Tesla to have been a victory. He’d gotten what he wanted from him and the man had been none the wiser until after it was all said and done. 

 

Perhaps it would have done him a little bit of good down the road if he hadn’t tricked Tesla. Then again, Edison wouldn’t have been surprised if Tesla still would have attacked him that day when he’d seen his former employer walking down the street with a cloned, younger version of himself. From what he’d heard from Tod’s weekend visits, Tesla still wasn’t very warm towards the boy. Whether it be from the fact that Edison had adopted him or because Tod was  _ his  _ clone, he didn’t know yet. 

 

Considering this was Tesla, Edison’t wasn’t sure they’d ever figure it out.

 

Mata Hari said nothing of her own endeavors while The Pope boasted about his brief battle with the Super Science Friends. He’d had cardinals behind him as well as God himself. Edison had only time traveled twice before on his own without his son’s arranged living with the super science friends. Once for the nobel prize ceremony from which he came back empty handed. It was the only time he’d caught a glance at the Nazis but he’d paid them no mind back then. They were from some other time and it didn’t seem to involve him. His frustration and surprise at not winning had been the more pressing distraction. The second time had been to visit a science center but he hadn’t remembered anything relatable to his current situation from then. 

 

Jung had planned well, laying in wait for the long con to get his jump on Freud. The ploy ultimately proved unsuccessful but he’d call it a close one. If it was due to wanting to keep his pride intact Jung kept it a secret. Even to himself. 

 

Jung didn’t have much to say about the other fiends, although he’d recognized Mata Hari right away and knew who The Pope was. 

 

He was also far more familiar with Edison than he really ought to have been. Despite being on different continents and working in far different areas, Jung knew  _ of  _ Edison. Not the Edison from his ‘native’ time of 1914,  but he hadn’t been too far off from his first visit to America. Edison, on the other hand, had no reason to be familiar with Jung’s name nor work. He wasn’t known for being particularly interested in anything psychology related. 

 

Edison lived in the physical world, interested in how he could make it work for him to propel his successes and subsequently his bank account, forward. Jung held an admiration for the beauty and wonder of the physical world in a much different way than Edison. He was more invested in the mind and the depths it held. 

 

Opposites with hardly a need to interact.

The future was unpredictable, especially with time travel. A simple trip from a single, unusual boy had spiraled into what it was now. Their lives were now just as intertwined with one another as they were with the super science friends. Two men caught in the conundrum of raising a clone from the future.

 

Unlike Edison, Jung had an advantage of understanding his. Copper, was  _ his  _ clone. He ought to have a better understanding of what his own mind had a tendency to do or want. Jung had studied the minds of many people, most intimately his own. Yet, even he found himself lost at times. Nature was just as important as nurture it seemed. Despite sharing many similarities, Copper’s former role in the Facility had molded him in a direction that left Jung unsure of how to go about raising him to fit in society. 

 

The boy was a stickler for rules, often going out of his way to enforce ones that had no real purpose in the outside world. More than once, he’d caught Copper trying to discipline his children into being ‘perfect Jungs’. An attempt to gain the favor of an entity that did not yet exist in his time period. If his suspicions about the size and scale of the operations were how he imagined, it was highly unlikely that he’d ever got it in the first place. It unnerved both him and his wife on multiple occasions and efforts to stomp out that habit of his were met with mixed results. 

 

Copper didn’t seem to understand the concept of ‘being alone’ or how to handle solitude. Unlike Jung himself, Copper had a need to actively seek someone out. Left to his own devices, the clone didn’t know what to do with himself. He was more of a quiet Extrovert, where Jung was more of an Introvert. Alone time never truly meant being alone, from what Jung learned. Jungs were meant to patrol in groups of at least two in their assigned corridors. Their sole source of alone time was merely utilizing the shared bathrooms their units were assigned. 

  
  


Jung had a few more theories behind his clone’s actions. Unlike Tod, Copper had been forcibly taken from the Facility. While the boy was undoubtedly better off here, he hadn’t been as motivated to leave as his now companion. This sudden separation from home and family was a major shock to him, a fact that had confirmed Jung’s suspicions. Copper’s attempts to reinstate some of his old living conditions might have been a way to cope with that loss. It was a loss that was for his own good, but it was still a loss to him. 

 

The differences made his head spin but he sought to get to the heart of these differences and fully understand Copper. 

 

As far as they knew, the other Fiends-as they’d dubbed themselves- were unaware of the children’s existences. It was for the best and hopefully, it’d stay that way.

* * *

  
  


The walls of St. Peter’s basilica were meant for holy purposes. Discussions of the Church, of doctrine and of God. These sacred halls where the very essence of one of the major world religions resonated through every person who resided here. Jung had a feeling that besides The Pope, he was the only other one in the room who felt some connection to what this place stood for. Despite Jung’s insistence to part from his father’s path in life and the unspoken decision that he too would follow in his footsteps, he could not deny the influence his father had on him. It may have been Catholic but it was still a church, so a part of him felt obligated to pay some respects to it.

 

Obergruppenführer Ploetz was heading the meeting, joined with a few representatives of his own clones . They’d tracked down as many of the SSF’s archenemies as they could, each of them having been greeted by representatives to persuade them into coming. Edison had been the most shocked by their sudden appearance. His bad hearing hadn’t helped him understand their accents nor their message, although Jung wasn’t entirely sure how much of that had been acting and how much of that had been genuine. Edison hadn’t appeared to struggle as much during the very few times in which the two of  _ them  _ had talked. Maybe there was a difference between them  in their ability to pronounce the English language but to Jung they just sounded  _ normal.  _

 

Edison, being the sole American, was the only one in the room to not speak at least one other language fluently. The Ghouls didn’t speak at all, surely The Pope could at least speak Latin and Italian. Not to mention he had the benefit of having Cardinals from all over Europe so they too could probably translate from German or understand better. Mata was fluent in it and it was Jung’s native tongue. Idly, Jung wondered if Edison felt out of place here. 

 

After the initial meet and greet, Ploetz drew attention to the start of the meeting. For the benefit of the sole American, it was held in English.

 

“Hello, fellow Fiends. Am I correct in assuming you all know why you are here today?” Ploetz announced, scanning the faces of each and every attendee. There was no doubt that he was observing all of them, calculating their potential usefulness in battle. 

 

There was a general noise of agreement. 

 

Satisfied, Ploetz continued.

 

“Very well, we are going to plan our joint attack on the Super Science Friends.” He presented to them a board on which detailed pictures and words were scrawled out. It was as if they’d already done the work and were simply taking orders from Ploetz. 

 

Jung tried to see how Edison was reacting. The other man was deep in thought, eyebrows furrowed as he did his best to follow along. For a brief moment their eyes met before flicking back to the board, careful not to draw too much attention to each other. 

 

Ploetz pointed at one board, a general lay out of the top floor of the base was presented in neat detail before them on a large piece of paper. Firstly, he pointed at what Jung vaguely remembered was the ‘main meeting area’ for the SSF, mainly from his first visit to pull off his big plan against Freud. He was more acquainted with the interior of the base but he figured he could find his way around well enough. 

 

“This is where we’re planning on striking. It’ll be easier for us to overwhelm them together. Even if they use their powers this time, it is unlikely that the Super Science Friends can handle all of us.”  Ploetz had been about to flow directly into his next point before The Pope interjected.

 

“The Church doesn’t need to join up with the likes of you to take down the scientists. We have the hand of God on our side.” The Pope pointed out snippily, he wasn’t used to taking orders, not anymore. For the most part he gave orders and declared doctrines, rarely did he need to answer to anyone who wasn’t God. 

 

“HmmMm. Tell me, how did  _ that  _ work out for you?” Ploetz questioned, quirking an eyebrow. 

 

The Pope huffed, unwilling to back down. His faith was unwavering as expected.

 

“If it weren’t for ….for  _ that  _ man, we would have won. Science cannot challenge religion and bring God down.” The Pope’s voice was rising, causing an unease among those in attendance. If a fight broke out here, the question that hung in the back of Edison and Jung’s minds may have answered itself before they had to fully ask it.

 

Ploetz stood up straight, a chilliness exuded from him.

 

“Science is what allowed them to bring you down in the end. Time travel and naval boats were not ‘granted by God’. You can either sit back and grumble about your defeat or you can join forces with us. Either bring your ‘divine power’ to the table or go home.”  Ploetz threw the ultimatum to the table. 

 

The Pope squinted at him before standing up in a rage.

 

“I  _ am  _ home. These are my halls you’re in.” He shouted furiously. 

 

Even Ploetz seemed to wilt somewhat at the outburst. A cardinal from outside poked his head in.

 

“Is everything alright, your Holiness?” The man inquired. Looking around the room, he seemed even more baffled.

 

The Pope sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

“Yes, yes, everything is just  _ fine.  _ Go back to your duties, Cardinal Joseph.” 

 

Cardinal Joseph meekly obeyed, withdrawing from the room. 

 

The Pope took a deep breath before returning to the matter at hand. 

 

“Alright, I’ll join in. But that lab rat who dared challenge The Lord’s word is mine, you understand?” The Pope restlessly sat back down looking drained.

 

Ploetz gave a controlled smile, devoid of warmth. “Of course. I assure each and everyone of you will get to face off against your rival. We  _ will  _ succeed with this. You can do with them as you wish. Some of you, I assume may want to... _ dispose  _ of them yourselves.”

 

The Pope sat in silent agreement while Mata Hari simply smiled back with eagerness. 

 

“When will we be launching this coordinated attack?” Jung asked calmly. He could only pray that it would take place on a weekend, at least then it would give them time to get their children back from the SSF. The less vulnerable ties they had that could draw the regime’s attention to them the better. Jung wasn’t stupid.

 

He had a very good idea of what they would resort to doing if the clones were found out. Not only to the poor kids but to themselves as well. 

 

“Herr Jung, it’s good to hear from  _ such an upstanding individual as yourself.”  _ Ploetz turned his attention fully to him. Staying still, Jung tried to ignore the shiver that ran up his spine as the commander looked him over. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it..but there was something very unnerving about being semi praised by a high ranking officer from the Axis. 

 

“I know that many of you work,” Ploetz began. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Edison visibly relax just a hair. Jung’s heart soared with relief. Silently, he prayed that Ploetz would announce that it would be a weekend, that they’d have a chance to rescue them both.

 

“But you can afford to miss a day or two to aid in the assault. The Super Science Friends would expect an attack on the weekend- we must strike to catch them off guard.” Ploetz grinned widely.

 

The fledgling freedom came crashing down immediately with those words. 

 

“Now listen here. I’m a hard working businessman, you can’t expect me to just abandon my lab in the middle of the week! I have business meetings to attend to, inventions to inspect!” Edison protested loudly, slamming his hands onto the table. 

 

Ploetz scoffed dismissively at Edison’s outburst. 

 

“Herr Edison, is it?” Ploetz addressed coldly, gripping his pointing stick tightly with his one hand. 

 

“Would you say that your dedication to your job is more important than taking down the super science friends?” Ploetz stared the lone American down. Unlike The Pope, he wasn’t going to let up. Edison didn’t hold as much power and importance as The Pope did. He wasn’t a major religious figure head. He was just an  _ American _ businessman. A wealthy and well known one but still just a businessman. 

 

“Mr. Ploetz, if I may bring to your attention, I founded my companies with my own two hands and hard work. Years of dedication have been poured into every success and failure that has come out of an Edison company. Whether it be electricity or-” Edison’s monologue was swiftly cut off.

 

“Herr Edison, get to the point.” Ploetz snapped, bringing Edison to a halt. “Am I to understand that Tesla was one of your employees?” 

 

Edison faltered, briefly licking his lips to moisten them. “That is correct, yes.” 

 

“You claim he still owes you as a former employee.” Ploetz pointed out, building up to his final point.

 

“Why yes, of course he does. He signed a contract with me years ago!” Edison huffed, staying firm. Even still, his fingers seemed to twitch slightly.

 

With aggravation or anxiety?

 

“You are your own boss with no higher powers to answer to in your company, correct?” Ploetz continued.

 

“There are still board members and investors.” Edison informed, quirking an eyebrow.

 

“But there is no one that can tell you whether or not to come in on a specific day.” Ploetz specified, slowly growing increasingly more agitated.

 

“...No. No, there isn’t.” Whatever defense Edison might have come up with died with his admission.

 

“Then you can afford to go. Unless you don’t want Tesla back, in which case we will be more than happy to eliminate him for you.” Ploetz told Edison with a definitive air of finality. 

 

Instead of offering a rebuttal, Edison quietly sat back down. 

 

No one else had an issue with the timing of the attack. 

 

“To answer Herr Jung’s question, we attack on Wednesday. Early morning.” One of the Nazi clones wrote it out on the board for everyone to see.

“Oh, look. Mr.Edison won’t have to waste time on his precious business endeavors after all. There’s a five hour difference between New jersey and England, isn’t there, Mr. Edison?”

 

Edison made the barest noise of acknowledgement, not looking at either Ploetz or the board.

* * *

 

With the meeting officially over, the other fiends dispersed back into their proper time periods. The ghouls had been the first leave, simply being able to teleport themselves out at will. Ploetz had taken his leave shortly afterwards, leaving Jung, Edison and Mata Hari to see themselves out as they were escorted by the Cardinals.  Subtly, Jung moved out of view of Mata as she went off in another direction. With so few of the others to keep an eye out for, it was easier to get away with blatantly looking at one another. Edison followed Jung as he motioned for him to come duck out of public view and join him somewhere more private. 

 

“Do you have a plan?” Jung asked Edison, keeping an eye out for their surroundings.

 

“For warning the Super Science Friends or getting the kids out? Because I don’t have an answer for either of those.” Edison responded, getting straight to the point. 

 

Jung could at least appreciate the man for being honest about the situation. Still, it didn’t help him any.

 

“I have some ideas but they won’t answer both of our needs. I could attempt to contact the Super Science Friends with my dream walking abilities, but there’s no promise they’ll remember enough of it to do what they have to do. People don’t typically remember their dreams for long and those of them who do might not realize it’s a real.” This was Jung’s strongest plan and yet it hinged on so many ‘but only ifs’ that he didn’t like. He didn’t like to go into plans that he wasn’t highly sure would go over well. It was why he’d taken so long to set up his revenge on Freud and set it into action.

 

“What about your boy? Doesn’t Copper have the same powers you do? Tod seems to have most of the powers Tesla does and then some.” Edison suggested.

 

“It’s not impossible to use my powers through time but it’s difficult to sustain that way. Besides, there’s no promise that even he’ll remember it in the morning like the others. If he’s anything like me, he could have a tendency to write down his dreams but that’s not something I’ve ever asked to see. Besides, there’s another very large issue in regards to this that we’re overlooking.”

 

“If that’s such an issue, what do you propose we do? Do you have any other solutions I should be aware of?” Edison pressed, annoyed. 

 

“It’s not necessarily about just the solutions, Mr. Edison. Don’t forget we aren’t passive bystanders in this event. We’re expected to take part and if our new ‘allies’ figure out we’re working behind their backs, teaming up with the Super Science Friends, they’re not going to take it lightly.” Jung pushed back lightly. 

 

“ Obergruppenführer  Ploetz is a man who commands respect and obedience. He doesn’t take lightly to having his authority challenged. He’s not someone we should underestimate.” He was looking through his mental notes he’d set aside during the meetings. Jung lacked the written notes he’d like to have taken but that ran the risk of being caught and questioned. He may have been the only other man in that room with a power- if one didn’t count The Pope being able to summon God as a true power- then Jung was the only one who could have reasonably fought back. Psychic powers were no math for guns, however. 

 

“What exactly does that word mean?” Edison asked, taking a moment to derail the conversation.

 

“Hm? Oh, in English it would translate into ‘Senior group leader.’” Jung explained quickly. Before he could continue on, Edison had another question to ask.

 

“And where would that be on the German military ranks?” Jung looked at Edison incredulously. 

 

“I don’t know what the Americans think of European warfare, but Swiss and German military have two different structures. That’s not even accounting for the fact that they’re twenty seven years apart from myself.” Jung folded his arms, quirking an annoyed eyebrow at Edison.

 

“Besides, I was drafted as an army doctor but later promoted to head of the POW camp during world war one.” He gestured casually. Jung didn’t talk much about his time during the war. He’d dealt with too much death and gotten more blood on him that wasn’t his own than he’d like to dwell on. His time in charge of the POW camp was far nicer as he did his best to enrich the men’s lives while they were stranded on neutral territory. 

 

“Oh, I see.” Edison said simply, with nothing to add to that. 

 

An awkward silence.

 

Jung cleared his throat before moving onwards.

 

“Anyway, with all this in mind, it would not be wise for us to let them catch on to what we’re doing.” 

 

“What if we go back to the-what did you say your power was again?” Edison asked again. It almost sounded like he had a plan of some sort.

 

“Dream invasion. There are others too, I do have a number of theories of the mind.” Jung reiterated. 

 

“Dream invasion. Right. Well, are you sure there isn’t a way to make your dream stick?” Edison urged him to reconsider the idea. Jung had already stated the facts about his power but he supposed he couldn’t blame Edison for wanting to give it another look. 

 

“If it were a particularly vivid or reoccuring dream, it would grab their attention. However, we don’t have the time to set one. I could try aiming for someone with very good memory.” Jung was starting to have hope in this venture again. 

 

“I would put my money on Tesla. Now, I can’t say for the other members, but I know Tesla’s mind is a bit ‘odd’ to say the least and he never seems to forget anything.” Edison suggested. He left out the parts where he thought that while Tesla was intellectually sound, his people smarts were poor. What Edison and what he considered to be a great deal of people to be common sense didn’t quite ‘jive’ with Nikola. A shame, really.

 

“Tesla, I don’t recall coming across his dreams when I was scoping them out.” Then again, Jung had been through many people’s dreams and they tended to blend together after a while. 

 

“From what I heard he tends to be a workaholic. I was much the same when I was a younger man. Working eighty hours a week, hardly going home and catching the briefest of sleep when I absolutely needed it.” Edison recalled, almost nostalgically.

 

Jung’s face twisted angrily. Grabbing Edison, he pulled him close. His scowl deepened in part of the man’s odor.

 

“Do you not understand the concept of  _ dream walking?  _ I cannot enter the subconscious mind of someone who is not asleep!” He almost yelled, shoving Edison back forcefully. The American almost stumbled as he got his footing back.

 

“Well, he still  _ has  _ to sleep sometime. He’s only human, or at least I’m pretty sure he’s human.” Edison argued back. This conversation was treading water with no plan of action in sight. 

 

“Would there be anyone else we could try this on? You said you were walking through their dreams, you must have an alternate candidate?” Edison asked, making a note to keep his distance from Jung.

 

Jung mentally ran through the members of the team, hesitating over Freud as an option. He didn’t want to, really didn’t want to.

 

Unless….

 

“Z3. It’s a stretch but it could work.” Jung mused to himself out loud.

 

“Z3? What is that?” Edison was thoroughly puzzled.

 

“The Super Science Friends have a super computer named Z3 who’s helping them. I used him to draw all of dreaming London into one place so I could use it against Freud.” Jung explained briefly.

 

Edison’s baffled expression led Jung to brace for another round of questioning. For one reason or another, he held off of it this time around. 

 

“Alright, so let’s say that we do take this Supercomputer route and it works. Assuming Ploetz is as wiley as you say he is, how do we make sure he doesn’t think one of us tipped them off?” Edison asked.

 

“We can attest it to Z3 having caught onto it. Hopefully he buys it but that’s out of our hands for now. This is all we can do in this area for now. We may, at another point further on come back around to it. 

 

Right now, we need to focus on the important issue.” Jung hand waved it away. It was never going to be perfect but it would have to do. The two men were wasting time on the most urgent matter.

 

“Let’s assume that our plan works but the Super Science Friends still lose.” Edison began, fumbling through a makeshift plan.

 

“That is something I suspect will happen either way.” Jung agreed, a faint hint of regret in his voice. He would still get to take down Freud and he couldn’t pretend he was very close to the other members either. This twinge of guilt for betraying the people who had both rescued and looked after Copper in the first place hung over his shoulder like a phantom.

 

“Do we tell the kids to hide under their beds? In closets?” Edison was starting to pace, pent up energy keeping him from standing still.

 

“There’s no guarantee the Nazis will leave the tower once they’ve won.” Jung pointed out, causing Edison to stop and look up at him with the dawning realization of what had been said.

 

“It would be too much of a tactical advantage for them, getting a foot in the door to England. I don’t believe they’d ever give it up. Not to mention they’re going to want to clean out Big Ben, rooting around for secrets and military plans.” 

 

Frustrated, Edison ran his hand through his hair before turning back to Jung.

 

“Knowing that, we’re going to have to be the ones to get them out and if what you’re saying is true, they aren’t going to expect us to stick around.” Edison said, letting the situation hang in the air. 

 

Their backs were up against a wall with limited time and resources to better their chances of doing what they needed to. Time Travel was only a limited option which often came with it’s own brand of drawbacks ranging from exhaustion to nausea on prolonged use on the lighter end of the symptom scale. It was why time travel was generally recommended to be kept to a weekly basis at most unless one could shield themselves from the side effects. Not to mention that although it was very much a well known phenomenon, not everyone had access to it on a whim. Time paradoxes were another major risk, greatly limiting the use of time travel. 

 

“Let’s not forget that we’re going to need to sneak out two nearly teenage children.” Jung reminded him.

 

“We have to fight them, don’t we?” Edison said finally.

 

“....Yes, we are.” Jung confirmed, watching an idea unfurl in his mind. He’d only ever done it once before and he couldn’t even have the benefit of the doubt that it would work. Edison was an unlikely partner to make it happen. 

 

“My electrogun can take out a number of...targets with few shots.” Edison began, hesitating to actually touch the subject of killing another human being, let alone multiple, by his own hand. 

 

“It’s unwieldy but it’ll work, for a time.” 

 

“I have other psychic powers that I can use outside of sleep. Alas, I can only use them for so long before I get a migraine.” Jung added.

 

The question of if it would work gave way to the need to put it on the table as Jung cleared his throat. Looking Edison in the eyes, his face turned serious.

 

“Mr. Edison, There  _ is  _ one more option we could try.” Jung addressed, earning him a questioning look from Edison.

 

“It’s a skill that only happens when two people have powers, where they combine them into someone bigger and better. An amalgamation of both physical and mental traits. A union of powers and ideas. I have only tried it once and only with a man who had powers as well.” Edison didn’t need to know that man had been Freud. Jung wished now, that it had been with anyone  _ but  _ Frued.

 

“I’m sure it’s a lovely ideas but I think you’re overlooking a major flaw in your plan. I don’t have powers.” Edison said flatly.

 

“I’m not finished. In theory, only one of the participants needs to have powers. In  _ theory.  _ Push comes to shove, we can see if your gun counts as a power or not. _ ”  _ Jung stressed.

 

“I can’t say I’ve ever heard of this ‘tactic’ you’re talking about.” Edison gestured, doing a brief little jazz hands motions.

 

“It’s called Fusion and it’s primarily kept a secret from the general populace.” Jung finally revealed.

 

“Fusion.” Edison repeated, trying out the word. “Alright, how does it work?” 

 

Jung  approached Edison, his hand hovering over Edison’s shoulder. 

 

He glanced at Edison’s bulky bag, the case that he carried his electricity gun in. Pack and all. It must have been ‘just in case’, unless the man truly carried it around with him everywhere. 

 

“Put it on.” Jung reminded him.

 

Edison glanced down at the bag, quickly understanding. Putting it on, they resumed.

 

“May I?” 

 

Edison looked at the hand and then back at Jung.

 

“Do what you need to do.” Edison told him. Jung put one hand on his shoulder and took Edison’s free hand in his own. He looked almost confused before catching onto what Jung was trying to do. 

 

“You misunderstand, Edison. It’s not about what  _ I’m  _ going to do. It’s about what  _ we  _ need to do.” There was a lot that Jung was going to have to explain to Edison. The man was sorely out of the loop and every second they wasted going over the bare basics, the less time they had to plan and practice their actions.

 

“Fusion is a team effort. You have to want it. I want to have it. Our minds and bodies have to be in sync for it to work.

 

Think of it like a dance. We have to work as one to  _ become  _ one.” As frustrated as Jung was slowly becoming, unsure if it was entirely on Edison’s part or his own, he put on his professional front. If he thought of this endeavor like how he’d approach one of his patients, he could get through this. Slowly, he started swaying his body to a silent tune. Slightly confused yet understanding this much at least, Edison followed suit.

 

Jung stepped back, Edison stepped forward- narrowly missing Jung’s feet. Jung moved to the side, he followed. Soon enough, their steps were in sync..yet that warm feeling was absent. 

 

“Think about why we’re doing this. Think about  _ who  _ we are doing this for.” Jung The Psychologist instructed. 

 

“Focus on how good it will feel once the boys are home safe and sound. Away from the war if only for a little while.” 

 

There it was. That warm feeling that was markedly different from plain body heat. It was working- they weren’t forsaken just yet. The light slowly engulfed them both, instinctively, they pulled each other closer until two became one.

* * *

  
  
  


What to call themselves?

 

Jungison? 

 

EdiJung?

They could sleep on that name later.

 

Edison had never been quite this tall. He was average, but he’d never quite realized how much taller Jung was. 

 

Jung had never been...this ‘round’, to put it simply. Wide, yes. He was aware of how well built he was. Naturally broad shoulders, a deep chest and a disagreement with small spaces confirmed it all. He was fairly well muscled but Edison had a sort of fat on him that he wasn’t accustomed to.

 

To the man they’d become, none of this bothered him. It was all normal, all meant to be. He took tentative steps in his new surroundings. Getting used to his legs, he came across a mirror, eyes wide in shock. 

 

Jung’s naturally dark and short cropped hair had merged with Edison’s longer, graying brown. The result was a medium length grayish brown cut, it kept some of Edison’s bangs and some of Jung’s general hairline.

 

 Brown blue hazel eyes gazed back under Jung’s glasses which had stayed. Their eyebrows had Edison’s neatness, but Jung’s fullness and expressiveness. They were raised in shock as they observed what new parts of their combined body had.

 

Jung’s moustache twitched slightly. 

 

They were very much  _ not   _ organic. Two holsters rested on either side of their hips -each one holding an identical looking electrogun, much like the original Edison had wielded shortly before. The design was different, a little more slender, easier to hold in one hand. A faint purple tint colored the otherwise dark gray of the original. There were another set of wires connecting the guns to their body. Using one hand to gingerly trace them, he found that they connected to his spine moving up to the back of his neck before disappearing into the base of his skull. The wires on his back seemed to be encased by a semi metal exoskeleton that started at the hips and ended at the top his shoulders.  From there, there were a series of two or three smaller wires that went from the base of his skull to his temples. 

 

All of it purple. 

  
  
  


“This is us?”  A question from ‘Edison’. Of course, Edison didn’t really exist at the moment.

 

“This is fusion.” ‘Jung’ reiterated. 

 

The two studied themselves in the mirror for a while longer before ‘Jung’ pulled away. 

 

“We know it works, but how does it fight?”  Had that been from Edison? From Jung? 

 

From neither?

 

A rush of purpose and determination urged them to move outside. They had to test and they weren’t going to stop until they got it  _ right.  _

 

Long purposeful filled strides took them closer to the outside. Careful not to be seen, their eyes scanned around for potential bystanders. They wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise, now would they?

 

Seeing as how the plaza was empty, they edged closer to somewhere less public. They needed to not be seen, to not tip off their existence so soon. It would simply be a pity to lose this new toy of theirs before they even got to play with it. 

 

They walked around to the back, a small back alley that seemed to be empty save for a few small birds hopping along the ground. They weren’t people, but they had  _ minds. _

 

Jungison pulled one gun out of it’s holster and aimed at the small flock of birds. A symbol that vaguely resembled extroberta was printed upon it’s side.

  
  


_ ‘Don’t hurt them’.  _ Pleaded one voice.

  
  


There was a moment of hesitance, near reluctance, but he obliged his ‘parent’. 

 

There was no physical trigger to speak of. Why bother?

 

He simply thought at it. 

 

Jungison focused on the birds. Sharp and sudden but precise. 

 

_ Come to me. _

 

A stream of purplish blue energy shot from it, startling the birds. A few got away, but he was still able to snag one or two. 

 

_ Stay focused. _

 

_ Come. To. Me. _

 

The birds that had fallen under their power slowly turned towards them. With almost halting steps they walked over, eyes never moving off of theirs. 

 

The free birds had long since left but these two stood before them, still and unquestioning. Unafraid because they had made them that way.  On the border of their consciousness, they were acutely aware of a presence.

 

The birds’ minds, they quickly deduced. 

 

_ What else can we do? _

 

It was a neat power but was that the limit of what they could do? Or could they utilize it to something greater?

 

_ They could and they would.  _ Proud and determined, Jungison knew this was only the beginning. They were too great, they held far too much potential to be a simple matter of mind control. So sure of themselves they tested yet again.

 

_ Fly. _

 

Firm and collected he gave them an order. There could be no room for uncertainty and apprehension here. Following the birds with his gun, he never let the beam lose contact with them. A test in prolonged contact with a faster moving target, a study in split focus. He could feel his minds separate in the back of his mind.

 

Separate but whole.

 

Apart but as one.

 

Edison’s eyes tracked the birds, keeping his mind full of that single word.

 

Fly.

 

Envisioning the very act of flying. The beating of wings, the feeling of the air carrying them up and away until the freedom of the air.

 

Jung kept the gun trained, focusing on their surroundings.

 

Before the birds could break above the rooftops, they let them go as they cut the connection willingly.

 

Watching as they flew off of their own accord, the fusion let the gun lower, slowly putting it back into his holster. 

 

They knew a little bit of what they could do, but testing on small animals could only take them so far. The full extent of their skills would have to prove themselves on that fateful day- there was nothing more they could do on such short time. Especially with them both living so far away, both physically and temporally.

 

What they could do was  _ practice.  _

 

Fusing. Unfusing.

Over and over again until they could do it no more. Bones aching, their lungs screaming in protest as they stumbled away on wobbly legs. Their minds grew muddled with exhaustion. The confusion of ‘ _ who am I _ ?’ seeped into their heads forcing them to stop.

  
  


As the two unfused for the last time, they walked back to their respective portals.

 

There was nothing more the two of them could do now. They’d gotten better at the act of fusing, though they were far from being as fast and efficient as either would be comfortable with, they had a semblance of a plan. 

 

* * *

 

The day had arrived all too soon. Jung cleared his mind the best he could, taking deep breaths. He could not deny the fear he felt in what they were about to do, likewise, he could not pay it the attention it so dearly desired. 

 

Edison gripped his electrogun tightly, staring straight ahead into the currently empty space before him. He had not gotten in many fights in his life, much less against so many people. His poor hearing had saved him from the wrath of the civil war, a conflict that many other young men like himself had not been so fortunate to live through. While he’d the comfort of safety and passing along messages via telegraph, men and boys were dying and suffering horribly. His knowledge of war was purely second hand. Even with Tod in his custody and his semi proximity with The Super Science Friends, it was all so distant. A disaster that happened to other people, but not him. 

Oh no, not Mr. Edison, he was too lucky, too valuable to be tainted by war.

 

Today was his day.

 

That red rift in time and space opened before both men and it was show time. Stepping into the portal they were instantly transported into the Super Science Friends base. 

 

Chaos was starting to unfold before them. A sizable army poured out of the portals, both Mata and  The Pope arriving at the same time. Jung’s portal was right behind Edison’s- not quite in plain view, but enough for them to be careful. Neither man had ever seen the Super Science Friends quite so disorganized. The barrage of laser fire mixed with the scattered haphazard one on one fights was enough to take enough of the risk off of the two men. Edison found himself staring bewildered at the sight- he’d never been so up close and personal with war. A battle unfolded before him, a hazy mess of action. Jung pulled Edison away from the frontlines- Curie was holding off the bulk of the armies while the men seemed to be taking a strangely long time to get their act together. This scene wouldn’t last for long- they had to act.

 

“Like we practiced.” Jung ordered, taking Edison’s hand like before. His steely eyes and tight grip forced Edison to focus.

 

They stepped in motion, a desperate waltz backdropped by fighting and yelling. Panicked cries for help and the smell of radiation wafting their way. Time was of the essence. 

 

Clear your mind of what’s going on around you.

 

Eyes focused on your partner.

 

_ Remember what you’re fighting for. _

 

With the growing warmth and the building white glow between them, Jung pulled Edison in and let himself be taken.

 

Tesla and Freud caught a glimpse of them merging, eyes wide in shock and fear. A moment’s hesitation that drew attention to them. Distraction was just weakness waiting to be exploited by your enemies but that too could be taken advantage of as well.

 

Jungison pulled out his guns without missing a beat and aimed at the nearest group of Nazis. That purple blue light shot out, hitting their targets- another make or break moment.

 

_ You fight for me now. _

 

Sharp and forceful, persistent and assertive. Their group of Nazis turned to attack their fellow troops. The hailstorm of laser fire lessened ever so briefly as the main group was caught off guard by the not so friendly fire. 

 

Freud and Tesla got the message, turning to join in the fight now. Freud lessened the main groups’ attention and direction, overwhelming them with lust. Tesla mowed down great swaths as best he could.

 

_ Stay focused. _

 

_ Don’t break from the thought. _

 

This change in forces caught the attention of Mata and The Pope. Did they suspect?

 

“What on earth are you fools doing? Attack them, not us!” Barked some Nazi commander.

 

Ploetz? Or one of his clones?

  
  


_ Hesitation. _

 

_ Wavering thought. _

 

Jungison felt his control on his steadily dwindling group of soldiers lessen, they were starting to break free. Quickly, he drew his other gun, catching a glimpse of an insignia bareing what he figured was Introberts. Redoubling his efforts, he fired both guns into the crowd of Nazi troops, gathering a larger crowd under his command this time. 

 

_ Fight the men with the guns. Fight the Fiends. _

 

_ Fight for  _ me.

 

He was careful to maneuver them into a cover for himself, spreading them out where they needed to be to obstruct his own view. One group towards the Super Science Friends and the small army, the other to keep Mata and The Pope preoccupied. As the battle raged on, Jungison mentally kept count of how many of ‘his’ men were falling, how many more replacements he’d need to gather. 

 

He could also feel his concentration beginning to wane. A growing migraine behind their right eye was throbbed as the flashes of battle and the overwhelming noisiness only aggravated it further. It was no longer just a battle of numbers, powers and tactics. It was a battle against time, of endurance. Either they were going to lose control and fall apart, revealing their double crossing or they would dwindle the Nazi numbers down enough for the Super Science Friends to finish them off. 

 

Their strength began to fail them, the two men could feel themselves falling apart.

 

_ Not yet.  _

 

Please.

 

He could see Mata and The Pope starting to back off- would they tell? Would they remember?

Glancing over at the Friends, they seemed to have gotten back into fighting form, no longer scattered but as a team again. Jungison diverted the stream from that particular group of Nazis, aiming instead at Mata and The Pope. 

 

They had to be sure.

 

Fighting through the pain that now felt like someone yanking on the back of their optic nerve, the two focused the last bits of their energy towards those two.

 

They could only pray that this cover their tracks.

 

_ The Nazis are not to be trusted. They turned on the both of you, wanting to savor the victory of besting the Super Science Friends themselves. Ploetz used you both. _

 

The two slammed down hard on that thought, throwing down every remaining ounce of focus and every firey feeling of conviction behind it. As nausea began to make itself known, a sour taste entered their mouth.

 

_ Hold onto it. _

 

_ Don’t let go. _

 

_ Don’t- _

 

White light filled their vision as everything went numb and they collapsed.

 

* * *

  
  


The pure bliss of dead silence and pitch blackness were the only things both men wanted. Edison was lucky to have one of those, shielding his eyes from the light. He could feel the uncomfortable metal of his electrogun’s battery backpack digging into his spine and hips. Someone gripped the hand that wasn’t still holding onto the gun for dear life and forcefully yanked him up. Clumsily he got up, wincing as he opened one eye to see who it was.

 

Tesla?

 

He was peeved, as he’d have expected but it was softer. The blow of general disdain and loathing was married to an expression he’d only seen very few times on Tesla, especially towards him.

 

Gratitude.

 

The two gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment longer than normal before Tesla turned away to go join his team mates. Off to the side, he could see Jung sat up against a wall, covering his eyes with his head down. Curie was tending to him while Freud stood there. With his back to Edison, he couldn’t tell what Freud was doing. The base was covered in bodies but the only ones living were the Fiends and the men who were briefly Jungison.

 

Edison tried not to look at all the bodies,not wanting to see all those open wounds and puddles of blood. He’d have to deal with the blood on his shoes afterwards if he wasn’t careful. Already he’d have to live with the phantom feeling of distant death, repeated countless times. Those last gasps, the flash of pain. The details that had been lost in the heat of the battle were starting to flood him. He pushed his way past the bodies to join the group and talk to Churchill. The smell of iron wafted up to his nose, making him almost sick.

 

“What the hell happened back there?” Churchill asked, before Edison could open his mouth to ask the same thing.

 

“Doctor Jung and I thought you could use a little help.” Edison answered with a wry smile. His voice wavered slightly from the pain and exhaustion. 

 

“Tesla and Doctor Freud told me that much.” Churchill informed him, smoking away on a fat cigar. “But that explain anything. What exactly did you two  _ do?” _

 

“We fused and sprung an ambush on the others. With my gun-” The mention of the gun made Tesla’s head turn, scowling. “-and Doctor Jung’s psychic powers we made them fight for us.”

 

The cigar moved from one side of Churchill’s mouth to the other as he mulled it over.

 

“But, I thought fusion required two people to have powers.” Churchill leaned back, both hands in his pockets as he waited for an explanation from Edison.

 

“That’s what we thought but we discovered that only one party has to have them. Then again, it could be because of the gun that..substituted as one.” Edison simply shrugged after telling Churchill the origin of their little plan.

 

“I don’t know, I’m not a scientist. I didn’t know fusion was possible until Jung suggested it first.” 

 

“You two knew about the attack-” 

 

Edison cut him off, not wanting to be accused of something they tried already.

 

“Don’t give me that, Jung and I went over all kinds of ways to warn you but without a communicator of our own or an ability to open a portal to get here on our own him-both of which, may I add, were things we brought up countless times before and were denied. Fusion was a last resort.”  Edison huffed, his one eye slowly drifting over the side like it tended to do every now and again.

 

No one brought it up but he was well aware it happened.

 

Churchill sighed deeply before he began to talk again.

 

“We’ve already told you why we can’t just give you the ability to freely travel through time and space. We will...see what we can do about extra communicators.” He gingerly agreed. It was obvious Churchill didn’t like giving out technology and easy access to the Friends to outsiders. Especially those who were noted as ‘enemies’. 

 

This was a special case and they both knew it.

 

“Good, good. Now, if you don’t mind me, Jung and I have children to pick up.” Edison alerted Churchill cooly as he strolled towards where he remembered Tod and Copper’s rooms were.


	29. Parental duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quote: Deep down you know you weren't made for fighting, but that doesn't mean you're not prepared to try  
> What they don't know, is your true advantage. When you fight for someone, you're prepared to die.  
> -do it for her, Steven universe
> 
> Summary: Mata Hari has never been in a battle before, especially one this big and coordinated. If it's for Philip, there's nothing she wouldn't do for him.

 

Mata Hari's life had undergone some major changes since she'd become a mother again. No longer was she as free to simply go when and where she or her clients desired. Philip was waiting for her at home and while she could hire someone to look after him while she was busy, that would have defeated the purpose of being a parent. She couldn't imagine how having another spend the majority of the time raising your child and call it parenting. To take credit for someone else's work and pass it off as your own felt cheap to Mata. 

 

She had mourned the loss of her motherhood twice before, she would not lose it a third time. Mata had given Philip his own to, new clothes that were higher quality than what he'd left home with. She could only wrinkle her nose in disdain at what kind of parent would just abandon their child, let them fend for themselves whole the other parent was long gone. 

 

It had been a little over a month since she'd formally adopted Philip but his transformation was quick and noticeable. His face looked rounder, more full. His face and hair were free of dirt and whatever bugs had decided to make their home on him. Still, the lingering traces of his old life hung around. Those dull, distant moments where she'd caught him staring into nothing. The bouts of tears and moodiness she couldn't pull him out of. Mata did the best she could, but there were some ills that would only heal with time and some that would never heal at all.

 

Mata may not have understood all that he'd gone through, but she vowed to stay there for him. It was an easy answer to the Fiends invitation. It had taken some talking to get the answer out of him, but Mata learned of how badly the super science friends had hurt him. She'd her own bone to pick with Tapputi, but this new piece of information gave her the drive to join in on the action.

 

 

* * *

 

The meeting was full of men. Rich men. Famous men.  _Powerful_ men. 

 

Mr. Edison, the American inventor sat somewhat by himself. Jung the psychologist on the other side, with The Pope of all people holding the meeting in The Vatican. Before them stood an array of men in black uniforms. If only The Pope knew who she was and what she did. The meeting would have been unbearable, with him and his men watching her every move and action, judging and condemning her. Mata could not falter in her pose not actions.

 

She strode into the room with confidence and sat down, looking very much at ease.

 

The man she guessed was Ploetz stood at the front of the room with several identical men, an array of charts and diagrams had been set up.

 

"Greetings, fellow Fiends. I assume we all know why we're gathered here today?" Ploetz asked, official beginning the meeting.

 

There was a general noise of consensus.

 

Ploetz seemed more than pleased at this. 

 

"Very well, let's get to the heart of the matter. How to execute our coordinated attack on the Super Science Friends." Ploetz pointed at a map of the tower, what appeared to be some sort of lobby or gathering room. 

 

"We will aim for their main control room. Likely, they hold daily briefings here. We aren't sure about the details of their activities, but if we catch them early, the earlier the better, the more of an advantage we have. " Ploetz continued as his men began to pass out small packets detailing information on the members. 

 

Each page was dedicated to a Friend, going into detail about their background and powers. Mata looked briefly at each page, making a mental note about who had hurt Philip one way or another. 

* * *

 

The boy knew, he'd kept a record of their ills against him. 

 

Freud. 

 

The man who'd made Philip make out with his own Mother. A disgusting disgrace of a man. 

 

Einstein.

 

His crime was small compared to the others. She'd leave him be unless he attacked. She didn't want the guilt of harming a child on her conscious. Even as she planned on how to get around it, she knew he was likely to fight back. 

 

They were as much his family as Philip was hers.

 

Tesla. 

She couldn't fight him. He was not only the tallest person between both groups, only barely taller than Jung, but he had one of the most lethal powers as well. Edison had an unsaid claim on that man anyway.

 

Curie.

 

Mata passed her page. There was no way she could fight her. The woman was easily the strongest of them all. 

 

Her fight would be focused on Tapputi. Her rival who had shaken her sense of confidence and her thunder as a prized entertainer. A woman whose pride rested on being desired, both financially, socially and personally. This was more important now than ever now that she was providing for another small life.

 

She only paid the briefest of attention to the rest of the meeting, opting instead to plan her attack.

Though age may take youth and beauty, it would leave experience and knowledge if one was wise enough to learn from the years. That was something Tapputi had in spades. There was no question about it, she'd do well to not underestimate the other woman.

Mata wouldn't pretend to even have the faintest grasp on the whole breadth of what Tapputi knew, but she knew what she herself didn't know. Puzzled over what that might be worth, she set that aside in her mind. She felt small in the face of the plan. Mata hadn't fought much prior to this and now she was going up against a carefully crafted group of men and women. Not only some of the brightest minds of human history, but powerful to boot as well. Everyone had powers of some sort, even Edison. From what she'd learned, he'd an electric gun of some sort. Mata was left to her wits and physical capabilities. 

 

Would she come back alive? 

 

Strange how the thought had never occurred to her before. With how preoccupied she'd been with Philip and his well being, it had slipped the radar. Those worries were amplified now that there was the mental image of Philip all alone again. Betrayed. Hurt. Alone on the street once more.

 

Guilt. 

 

Self preservation.

 

There was no question of if she'd come back. She didn't have a choice. She had to. Philip needed her to be his mother. To wage revenge against those who ruined his life to begin with. She supposed in some bitter irony, she also had them to thank for her being able to embrace parenthood once again.

* * *

 

The day was here. Mata left Philip with an acquaintance who she trusted to look after her son. She promised she'd be back and it was a promise she was determined to keep. They both had their hopes dashed and promises broken over and over.

 

No more.

 

Mata would fight for both of them. This wasn't just about admittedly petty grievances. This was about justice. About righting the wrongs and proving to each other and the vastly overpowered world outside of them that they could survive when thrown against everything they didn't have.

 

Powers.

 

Respect.

 

Love and determination would be their driving force and back again.

 

 


End file.
